


Gypsy Heart

by Ahmose_Inarus



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mutants, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahmose_Inarus/pseuds/Ahmose_Inarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So begins the first chapter of the story of an orphaned street thief who finds himself adopted by a Rom Baro; the Leader of a band of gypsies.  Remy LeBeau goes from a hated demon child with red eyes, to a beloved son.  Once merely scrabbling simply to survive, a flame is ignited within a young heart as a hopeless future becomes life truly worth living!  And the tale has only just begun...</p><p>Logan will be a much later introduction...  Patience is a virtue!  Eventual Logan/Remy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpencerRemyLvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/gifts), [DarkJediQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkJediQueen/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This story was supposed to be a short story... well, it's not. It's taken on a life of its own, and I'm not sure WHAT it will do. We'll just have to see. Eventual Remy/Logan... some day... Tags, characters, rating, warning, all is subject to change...

The caravan rolled up onto the town in the dead of night… Of course, being the dead of night, they were not permitted into the town. Not that there was room for them, anyway. The little city inside the stone walls was tightly packed in as it was. And so, under the suspicious eyes of the guards on the wall, the Romani drew their wagons into a circle and settled in to rest before the sun rose. 

And rise it did. The morning shift of guards watched as the gypsy clan emerged in their brightly colored clothes, and began to make camp. The young children headed for the river with buckets, the older children for the forest with hatchets to get firewood. A pit was dug up in the middle of camp and lined with stones, a large frame constructed over it and a rather generously sized kettle was hung from this. Firewood was dumped into the pit, the buckets of water went into the kettle, and the fire was started. Now that the center of camp was done, the gypsies moved to work on their own personal camps by their wagons.

As they did, a handful of them prepared to head into town. They had to find work, and earn money to replenish their supplies… and of course, there was a festival coming up soon… They always followed the festivals as they traveled, for that was where they made their money. They had a southern camp in the winter, where they stayed until the spring thaw. Then they moved out and headed northeast, visiting towns for their spring festivals. Then in the summer they headed west for summer festivals. And then, as autumn approached, they headed southeast, to attend to the Harvest festivals on their way back to their winter grounds. This town was one of their last stops… the harvest was in, it had been bountiful, and the gypsies would be able to barter for a good supply to last them through the winter.

The Rom Baro, the tribal leader, led the way into the town on a spirited golden dappled red bay Gypsy Vanner stallion, his mane, tail and feathering thick and wavy… the tail itself was so long that it nearly dragged on the ground. Just as he did everywhere he went with the horse, the Rom Baro heard women express envy for the horse’s glossy black hair. The magnificent horse drew the gaze of most everyone… and then their eyes moved to the rider. 

The horse and rider pair garnered many stares from the locals… curiosity, suspicion, admiration… He was a handsome man who carried himself with authority, tall and strong, with deep brown hair, graying at the temples, that he kept tied back to fall down to his mid back. He had a dark moustache and goatee and sharp eyes. He had a scarf across his brow, a deep green in color, wore a simple white linen shirt that was only loosely tied closed; it hung open halfway down his chest, showing off his defined pectorals that were partially obscured by dark hair and the several chains, beads and medallions that hung from his thick neck. He wore a deep green sash trimmed in gold around his waist, and dark brown trousers that disappeared where he tucked them into his worn boots just below his knee. A long, brown coat hugged his shoulders and fell to his upper calves.

Five others followed him, making their way through the town and heading to the manor of the Lord, all mounted on their impressive Gypsy Vanner steeds of varied color. Upon arrival, they were directed towards the town square, where the Lord of the lands was overseeing the preparations for the festival. The town square was a hive of activity, which the gypsies found comforting and familiar; the activity, the excitement, it was all so much like their own lives, every time they arrived at a new town and set up camp.

“There.” The Rom Baro declared, and guided his mount over towards a man astride his own sorrel mare, overlooking the activity. He was draped in a rich cloak, his long black hair cascading down his back in thick waves. When the gypsies approached, he turned his head and narrowed his eyes. He was not fond of gypsies for the most part. Everyone knew that. But he allowed their presence, for they stimulated the economy, and raise the spirits of his people… And he and the Rom Baro of this particular troupe had, interestingly enough, managed to forge something almost like friendship, as it was this troupe that had been visiting the town every year for far longer than any other. He tolerated things from this troupe that he would from no other, and even extended them some levels of hospitality that he would never consider for others.

With a sigh the man dismounted, and so did the gypsies. The Rom Baro approached, and offered his hand.

“Lord Nikolas.” The gypsy greeted.

“Jean Luc.” The Lord nodded back.

“T’ings be lookin’ well.” Jean Luc observed, casting his eyes around the square.

“It was a good harvest.” Nikolas confirmed. “Good weather. Good trade.”

“Magnifique…” Jean Luc nodded. A prosperous year for the town meant the people would be more willing to spend their money and barter for the more luxury goods that the Romani had brought from their path east. “Shall I have some o’ my people assist in settin’ up fo’ de festival?”

“The help would be appreciated.” Nikolas nodded, and Jean Luc waved a hand to the men with him. Two remounted their hoses and headed out. “De rest o’ you,” Jean Luc commanded, “see ‘bout arranging some trade bargains. You know what we be short on.” And the others also left, leaving Jean Luc with the Lord Nikolas. For the next couple of hours, the pair wandered the town, Nikolas pointing things out here and there, and discussing business. What did the gypsies need, and what luxury goods did they have to trade in return? Nikolas quite liked the exotic fabrics that they often had… in fact, Jean Luc always made sure to keep some for Nikolas in the emerald greens and sapphire blues that the lord enjoyed.

At one point, the two men stumbled to a halt as children scampered across their paths, nearly tripping them up. Snarling, Nikolas’ fists shot out and snagged two of the boys by their arms, and glared down.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He growled. The two boys, with long wavy black hair, looked up and gave him sheepish looks.

“Th’orry dad!” the young boy chirped, grinning. Jean Luc felt a smile tug at his lips as he observed the boy with his missing front teeth. Nikolas eyed the child, and then looked at the older one.

“You know better, Adrian.” He scolded.

“Sorry, dad.” The other boy murmured, his tone soft. 

“Away with you… watch Michael.” Nikolas instructed and released his two sons, watching them streak away with a sigh. Jean Luc chuckled.

“How old are dey now?”

“Michael is six. Adrian is nine.” Nikolas answered.

“Good lookin’ boys.”

“They’ll send me to my grave…” Nikolas grumbled, and Jean Luc chuckled. Nikolas coddled the boys, especially the younger one, who had barely survived his own birth; his mother had not… 

“Makes me miss de days when my Henri was dat young…” Jean Luc sighed, smiling. “Dey grow so fast, Lord Nikolas… know dey try yo’ patience… but treasure it…”

Nikolas nodded silently, a small, sad smile gracing his handsome features. They had returned to the square by then, and watched the children playing.

Then, one broke out of the crowd and stumbled, crashing into Jean Luc.

“Oof! Sorry!” The child called as he ran off. But in the blink of an eye, Jean Luc whirled, his hand darting out, much as Nikolas had done earlier, and his fingers closed. There was a yelp of shock and pain, and the boy stumbled as he was jerked back by the firm hand fisted in his hair. He twisted and fought, but let out a cry as he was roughly shaken, and Jean Luc commanded, “Give it back, boy.”

With a cry, the child hurled the stolen purse away and into the crowd, and then tried to run, only be jerked back by the hand in his hair again. He heard a low chuckle. “You be a clever one, non?” Came the voice, now sounding amused. “T’row it away in hopes dat I let yo’ go an’ go after it? Ain’t gonna work, boy…” The child let out a choked sob as he was forced to turn around, and then he was staring up at the two men… 

Nikolas and Jean Luc stared down at the small child; Jean Luc’s eyes widened, even as Nikolas’ narrowed. The boy, a filthy little urchin in tattered clothes that he was obviously outgrowing, stared back, fear in his vivid eyes, which were unlike anything either man had ever seen before… there were no whites in his eyes… instead, they were an inky black, and set in the darkness were bright, glowing irises of the purest ruby red…

“You…” The Lord growled.

“You know dis boy?” Jean Luc asked.

“Never met him. But I’ve heard of him…” Nikolas spat, turning and waving his guards over. “Filthy little street thief has been evading my guards for years…”

The guards were there then, and rough hands seized the child’s arms in bruising grips. The boy struggled, his terrified gasps tugging at the heartstrings of the Rom Baro.

“Excellent work, m’lord…” One of the guardsmen chuckled, nodding to Jean Luc who slowly uncurled his fingers and let go of the child’s hair. “You must have some good reflexes to have caught this lil’ shit…” 

The other guard had a dark grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around the child’s waist and heaved him up off of the ground, saying “Looks like this festival will get to kick off with a hanging tomorrow morning!” The child writhed in his grasp, desperately fighting to get away, tears running down his face as more guards joined the little spectacle, laughing and cheering the apprehension of the child.

Jean Luc felt a feeling of foreboding fall upon him… he slowly took in the faces of the guards… and the way they were staring at the little thief… or to be more accurate, the way they were eying the boy’s body… Jean Luc felt his gut twist when he watched the guard holding the child in one arm, move to grab his leg with the other hand, his fingers gripping the child’s inner thigh in a disturbing manner… and he was forced to realized what would befall the child that night, before his execution…

“Non.” He declared firmly, and everyone turned to stare at him. Nikolas looked slightly surprised. “You can’t mean t’ kill a child.”

“He’s a thief.” Nikolas pointed out. 

“Oui… But t’ieves can be reformed. ‘Specially when dey be dis young… Let me take de boy.” Now everyone was looking surprised, the child included. “See if dere be somet’in’ wort’ salvagin’.”

“… fine.” Nikloas snorted, waving a hand as he walked away. “As long as I never see him in my city again, I don’t give a damn what happens to him. Drown the pup in the river for all I care.”

“If he can’t be fixed, den I will…” Jean Luc said in a cold tone, and slowly, the guard holding the child set him down, not letting go completely until Jean Luc had the boy’s arm firmly in his grasp.

“Got a name, boy?” Jean Luc asked. The child said nothing. The guard who had been holding him backhanded the child immediately, and only Jean Luc’s hand on his arm kept him from falling to the muddy ground.

“You answer him, boy!” The man snarled. “Maybe the finer details escaped your stupid brain, but he owns you!!!”

“Enough!” Jean Luc barked, glaring at the guard. “I’ll handle dis pup…” And he turned and stalked away, dragging the child after him.

“Here.” He turned and smirked, accepting his purse from one of his men, who had fetched it from the crowd when the boy had thrown it. The man was now looking over the boy. “Takin’ in a stray, boss? Can we really afford anot’er mout’ t’ feed?”

“My soul couldn’t have afforded not to.” Jean Luc admitted. “Could see what dey was gonna do to de child… Couldn’t let dat happen, me…” And he reached his horse, slipping his hands under the child’s arms and lifting him up onto the stallion, before moving up to sit astride his mount. Then, clutching the child to his chest, he guided his horse out of the square, and headed to the gates of the town, glancing down at the boy sat before him. The child was very small and skinny… it was hard to see much of him under the filth that coated his skin and matted his hair. Jean Luc turned his head away in disgust when he got a whiff of the boy. But he could only hold him closer when he felt the trembling of the terrified child…

When they reached the gypsy camp, the boy’s trembling only amplified, as all the Romani stopped and stared at they passed, wondering what on earth their Rom Baro was doing with the filthy child… He drew his horse to a halt near several women. The little boy’s eyes widened when the strangest woman he had ever seen stood, her dark eyes fixed on him. Her hair was in thick ropes and were gathered on top of her head and held there wrapped up in a scarf, though a few hung down her face and onto her ample bosom, decorated with little beads. She was short and plump, but the child had never seen a woman like her… her skin was dark… He had seen some strange people with tan skin, but such a dark brown was unnerving. He never knew people like her existed.

“Jean Luc…” The woman said, putting her hands on her hips. “What on God’s good eart’ d’you have dere?” The man sighed and dismounted, then reached up and plucked the child off of the saddle and set him down. The child stood there, trembling in fear as he was stared at.

“De boy had de balls t’ pick my pocket.” Jean Luc drawled, and the woman let a broad grin cross her face. 

“Didn’t get away wit’ it I see.”

“Non.” Jean Luc chuckled. “Seems he live on de streets.”

“… What was dey gonna do t’ dis child?” The woman asked, then narrowing her eyes.

“De gallows.” Jean Luc said darkly, and the women around him looked equally displeased. “At firs’ light. Afte’ de city guards take deir pound o’ flesh from his po’ hide…” And he squeezed Remy’s shoulders. “De way dey looked at him…”

“Mon Dieu…” The woman gasped. “He a child!”

“Didn’t seem t’ matter t’ de connards…”

“Whatcha need from me?” The woman asked. 

“Get de boy cleaned up. Not in de river… he be too thin, an’ it be too cold… know it’s hard to get a hot bath ready, but…” Jean Luc glanced at her, and she nodded her understanding. “Den bring ‘im t’ me… Gon’ clear out Henri’s bunk. Got ‘is own wagon now… bout time he get ‘is crap outta mine…”

“Hah! As y’ say…” The woman nodded, then slowly offered a hand. “Come along now, petit. Tante Mattie take care o’ you… Gitcha all washed up an’ clean, oui?” The boy leaned away, back into Jean Luc. Mattie’s face filled with sadness, and Jean Luc moved to kneel before the boy, staring up into his eyes. 

“She ain’t gonna hurt you, mon fils…” The man said softly, and several woman looked startled at what he had called the boy. “Just get y’ a bath. Den we find some decent clothes fo’ y’ t’ wear, get some food in your belly and get y’ some rest… dat’s all…” The child eyed him, obviously not trusting him in the slightest. 

“Come on, now…” Mattie said, and grasped the boy’s hand, tugging him away. Jean Luc gave him an encouraging smile and nod, and the boy chewed his lip as he was dragged away. Mattie tugged him into her wagon and sat him on a stool by the door as gathered some things into a sack and took his hand again, guiding him outside once more. She led him to the edge of camp, right at the edge of the forest. A large wooden tub had been set up, with several fires and kettles around it. The women who had been sitting with Mattie were there, heating water over the fires and dumping them into the wooden tub.

The boy looked beyond apprehensive. Mattie smiled at him, smoothing his hair out of his face and then froze. Her eyes widened as she stared into the boy’s eyes. He immediately winced and tried to turn away.

“Non… Look at me, mon petit homme…” She commanded gently, and he did so. Slowly, a knowing smirk came to her lips. “Well now… Whaddya know?” And then she simply pat him on the head and turned her attention to his clothes with a look of disgust. “Absolutely criminal…” She huffed, trying to unlace his shirt; she ended up pulling a small knife and slicing through the ties. “Dese ain’t fit fo’ a dog t’ sleep on, much less fo’ a child t’ live in…”

The boy drooped, ashamed.

“Shhh… ain’t y’ fault, child…” She said, finally pushing the worn and filthy folds off of thin shoulders, and bit back a cry of dismay at the emaciated body she found beneath, riddled with bruises. Pangs of sadness struck her heart as she unlaced his tattered trousers and pulled them away, bringing a fearful flinch from the boy as he moved his shaking hands to hide his genitals. The utter fear seemed to roll off of him in waves, and Mattie sighed and moved in, wrapping her arms around the child and hugging him close, stroking his dirty hair and humming as he began to cry.

“Shhhh… S’alright, child… everyt’ing gonna be fine…” And she lifted him into her arms and moved over to the tub, setting him into it. He gasped in surprise at the warm water, staring up at her with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape. “Gonna get yo’ clean, d’accord?” Mattie said with a warm smile, and dug in her sack for a soap and a scrub brush, even as the women continued to fill the tub a bit more.

The little boy held still, nervously watching their every move. Smiling, Mattie took a bucket from one of the women and upended it over the child’s head, soaking his hair before she began to work the soap into a lather and scrub it into the boy’s hair. He let out a little yip of shock and tried to pull away.

“Hold still now, child. An’ close yo’ eyes so de soap don’t hurt. Dis be over quick, oui?” And the child quieted down and held still, only trembling slightly as she worked the lather in his hair, sudsing up every strand. Then she guided the boy to tilt his head back into the water to rinse it all away, and then she washed his hair a second time. After that, she grabbed the scrub brush and began to work on his thin body, scrubbing him clean. The boy, slightly in shock as he had the first proper bath of his young life, just allowed her to do what she did. Though he did tense and whimper in fear when she bathed his private areas. The water was cooling by the time she finally stopped, lifting him out of the tub and wrapping a large, thick cloth around his wet body, rubbing him dry. Then, with a smile and a hand stroking over his hair, she lifted him into her arms and carried him away from the treeline and back into camp. 

Eyes followed them, taking in the child that was huddled down in the blanket in her arms, trying to hide from the world, it seemed. The door to Jean Luc’s wagon opened, and a young man stepped out, his arms full of random odds and ends.

“See how it is, me!” He was calling back into the wagon. “Jus’ toss me out!”

“Y’ done had y’ own wagon fo’ two season, Henri! Get y’ shit an’ get out!” Jean Luc shouted back, and the young man laughed and walked away, smiling and nodding at Mattie, and trying to catch a curious glimpse at the child in her arms. He had left the door to the wagon open, and so she stepped right in. Jean Luc was at his desk, and looked up at her.

“Well?”

“Dis boy gon’ need a lotta care,” She said softly, setting the child down on the edge of the bunk built into the wall. “He be starved, hurt an’ scared, Jean Luc.” She told her Rom Baro quietly as she headed for the door. “Be careful wit’ him… still ain’t said a word…” And she left, closing the door behind her.

The child sat frozen in dread when he was left alone with the man. He was hardly educated. He knew very little about anything but that which related to his own day to day survival… but he knew what some men liked to do to young boys… he had seen it happen to other kids on the street… He had only been six the first time he had innocently walked into an alley, to come across a terrifying sight.

The boy he saw that day, Theodore, had been eleven, nearly twelve. Some men who liked to frequent the tavern had pinned him against the wall, and he was crying, begging them to stop. He had watched as one of the men had pulled Theodore’s pants down and forced his legs apart before putting his… THING, inside of Theodore. The boy with the strange eyes could only stand and stare in confused horror as the eleven year old screamed and thrashed. But the men only laughed at him as the one kept… kept taking it out and putting it back in, over and over and over… he would never forget Theodore’s screams, would never forget the blood… He had finally run, too frightened to watch anymore…

There was a small lean-to under the bridge by the edge of town, where many of the homeless children would gather. He himself didn’t go often, as even with the other street kids, he was an outcast… But he went that night… The kids were all crowded around the fire that had been made. Theodore was there… he looked haunted… broken… he stared into the fire as he lay there, letting a couple of the older boys take care of him. And the red eyed child had approached the group, something he rarely did. He had asked why those men had hurt Theodore like they had… 

The older boys laughed at him… at his ignorance… The orphan with the red eyes had his first and only sexual education by a pair of teenage boys, who had no love for him, and in fact, took pleasure in frightening him… They told him how some men liked to do that to boys… and since they had no families, no status, very few cared if they did it to them. And no one would care if it was done to the red eyed child… They cruelly told the child that when he was old enough, men would want him for that, and that would be the only thing he could do for the rest of his life… lie back, spread his legs, and take it… it was inevitable, they told him… it was the only thing anyone would ever want him for… And crying, the little boy ran from the camp… and he had believed them. And so he had taken so much care to avoid men… to never be trapped or cornered… to never let his guard down. So fearful was he, that he had become the wild little thief that no man had been able to catch… until the Rom Baro…

Now, the little boy sat on the bed of the strange Romani, with only a blanket to cover his body, and he felt the tears running down his face as he realized that his time had come… what he seen done to Theodore, would now be done to him…

He jerked when the man moved. “Shhhh…” Jean Luc said, kneeling before the child and wiping away his tears. “Don’t cry, petit… S’all gonna be alrigh’…” He watched in dismay as the child’s trembling became full quaking as he leaned away and clutched the blanket tighter around himself, fighting back sobs. Jean Luc was distressed by just how frightened the boy was.

“Shhh shhh shhh… Look at me, mon fils….” He said, placing a hand on the boy’s face and turning it to make the boy do just that. The child stared into the man’s eyes and whimpered, a fresh wave of tears flooding down his face when the man began to push the blanket off and away from his body. And then he was naked and exposed, and wanting to throw up. Jean Luc wiped the tears away and then turned, grasping a clean tunic of his own that he had set out and draping it around the boy’s shoulders. The boy looked confused now, as the man guided his thin arms into the sleeves, and then tied the strings down the front of the tunic. And with a small chuckle, he rolled up the sleeves as best he could.

“Dere now… We get y’ some clothes later, oui? Know we got some that’ll fit y’ round camp somewhere…” And then he asked, “what be your name, fils?” The boy didn’t answer. Jean Luc sighed, then turned and grabbed a bowl off of his desk, that had a cloth draped over it. He was then kneeling before the child again, and the boy’s eyes widened as he stared at the bowl of soup, steaming lightly. Jean Luc smiled and lifted the little wooden spoon. After a moment, the boy slowly opened his mouth, staring Jean Luc in the eye, as if afraid that he would throw the spoon aside and strike the boy, laughing cruelly. But he didn’t… the boy gasped slightly when the spoon tipped out its savory contents onto his tongue. Immediately, his eyes fell closed as the incredible flavors drew a tiny whimper from him.

Smiling, Jean Luc continued to feed the boy, moving to sit beside him… after a bit, small hands rested on the side of the bowl, and Jean Luc slid his own hand away, allowing the child to hold the bowl. And then, with a bit if silent coaxing, he had the boy taking the spoon and he was feeding himself. Jean Luc moved his hand to the child’s hair, gently stroking the damp locks and beginning to gently work out the tangles, every now and then gently saying “slow down… you make y’self sick…”

When the boy finished the soup, Jean Luc took the bowl and walked over to his desk, retuning with a comb, and a piece of bread. “Here… slowly now, fils…” The small hands seized the bread, but he did as told and ate it slowly, focusing on the feelings of the man combing through his hair.

“Mattie gon’ love your hair, boy…” Jean Luc chuckled, his voice warm and soothing… It was long, falling to the child’s shoulder blades, soft and silky, and as it dried, it crackled excitedly and clung to Jean Luc’s hand, filled with static, making the man laugh slightly as he tried to tame it. It was a lovely rust color, looking dark brown in the shadows, but shone red in the light from the candles and window.

The bread was gone, and Jean Luc noticed that the child was listing to the side. Smiling and running his hand over the boy’s hair once more, he rose and knelt before the child. The red and black eyes were glassy, and his lids were drooping heavily. Jean Luc smiled up at him, pushing his hair out of his face. “Time t’ sleep, oui?” He said softly, and moved the child up into the middle of the bed, resting him down. The little boy, so tired and now clean with a full belly for the first time in who knows how long, soon slumped down into the soft bed, his eyes falling closed. Jean Luc chuckled at the burp, and drew the blankets up to the boy’s chin before he turned and made his way out of his wagon, making sure to lock the boy in…

It was late afternoon, and the Romani were making their way back to camp for supper. Jean Luc joined the other elders around the main fire, accepting a bowl from Tante Mattie.

“How’d it go?” She asked, settling next to him, and his son, Henri, plopped down on his other side.

“Quiet as a mouse…” Jean Luc sighed. 

“Still ain’t said a word?” Mattie asked.

“Non.”

“Maybe he be a mute, Papa?” Henri asked.

“Non… He ‘pologized when he bumped into me… in town.” Jean Luc told him. “Dat boy scared t’ death, dat’s all. Neve’ seen a child shakin’ like dat, cryin’ so hard… never seen a child dat… frightened.” He sighed. “Jus’ wish I knew de boy’s name…”

“We ask aroun’ in town tomorrow, boss.” Called one of the other men. 

“I would appreciate dat.” Jean Luc nodded. 

When he returned to his wagon after dinner, with a little jar in his hand from Mattie, he found that the little boy hadn’t stirred. He sighed, staring at the pale face in the candlelight. Soft, young, innocent… the boy was incredibly beautiful. Jean Luc moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pushed the child’s hair out of his face. He tried to imagine what name the boy would have, but nothing seemed to fit. After a while, he drew the blankets down and reached out, carefully untying the strings of the shirt, and then brushing each piece out to the side. Then he stared down at the boy’s naked body.

He drew in a deep breath as anger burned in his gut… His eyes traced every line of the child’s painfully thin body, and the way that his skin was stretched over a distended belly, that was full for possibly the first time in years… he took in every cut, bruise and scrape, feeling a particularly vicious rage at the bruise forming on the child’s inner thigh, in the shape of a cruel hand. He wanted to scream out in fury as his mind flashed to knowledge of what would be befalling the boy in that very moment, had Jean Luc not intervened that afternoon. He fought to shove those thoughts aside, even as the image of the boy’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, streaked with tears as he screamed in pain, begging for mercy as his innocence was violently ripped away…

But no… that didn’t happen. And it wouldn’t. The child was here, in his wagon, in his bed, safe and sound. Jean Luc turned and picked up the little pot that Mattie had given him and dipped his fingers in, scooping up some of the cream and then turning and humming softly under his breath, he began to dab it on each and every cut and scrape that he could find on the little boy. 

The child slept on as he made his way down his torso, but he noticed immediately when the body tensed, and the peaceful breathing suddenly stopped. Jean Luc paused and raised his eyes. The child was awake and staring at him, eyes wide and filled with fear. But Jean Luc only gave him a gentle smile, and resumed his humming. He also looked back at his work, smearing the salve on the boy’s scraped knees. 

“Dis will make dem all heal faster.” He finally said in a soft voice, now turning his attention to the battered shins. “Dis all come from livin on de streets? O’ did someone hurt you, petit?” He asked, glancing up at the boy. “… Maybe both?” Still no answer. He sighed and turned his gaze back to the boy’s legs, moving down to his ankles. When he got to his feet, he hissed in displeasure. The boy had gone without shoes for a long time. They were littered with little cuts and scars from years past…

“Firs’ t’ings firs’… Gonna find some boots fo’ you t’ wear… You be lucky dese ain’t infected…” The child gasped softly when the man lifted his feet and smeared the salve over them, rubbing them, massaging them… it was relaxing, and felt wonderful. Jean Luc smiled up at him.

“I know you had a rough time, petit…” He said. “But dat be all over, now. When we leave dis town, you be comin’ wit’ us. An’ I ain’t never lettin’ anyone hurt you again, y’ hear?” He gently lowered the boy’s feet to the bed and covered them with the blanket before moving up, closing the shirt and tying the laces once more, covering his slim body. Then, staring down into the apprehensive face, he said “Y’ never gonna go hungry again. Y’ always gonna have a roof ove’ your head, clothes on y’ back, an’ y’ never gonna be alone…” He reached out and stroked the boy’s hair. “Dis be your home now. An’ I’m gonna take care o’ you. Always. You be mine now… my child. My son… An’ I will always love you, and protect you… won’t let anyone hurt you again… je promets… Now sleep, mon fils… my son…” And he leaned down, and gently kissed the boy’s forehead, before he moved over to his desk and sat down, with his back to the child.

The little boy watched the strange man for a bit, but the soft scratching of his quill on the parchment soon lulled him back to sleep once more…


	2. Chapter 2

Waking was a surreal affair for the orphan from the streets. Sleeping was a necessary evil for him… he had to sleep lightly, ready to flee any threat that could approach… or just flee from the nightmares. Waking was abrupt, and he would wake cold, aching and hungry... So when he emerged from his sleep slowly, and found himself none of those things, he was confused… He was so cozy and comfortable, wrapped in a soft warmth. And he felt safe… there was no residual fear from nightmares, and his stomach wasn’t aching… It wasn’t growling… he felt… good. And that never happened…

Slowly, the boy opened his eyes. He was staring at a wall… a dark, worn wood. And then he heard it… breathing. Behind him… And then he recognized the pressure on the small of his back… a hand.

Freezing like a frightened rabbit, he steeled himself and then slowly lifted his head from the pillow and turned. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark gloom, but finally he recognized the man, and the events of the previous day all came flooding back. Fear gripped him, and yet, he didn’t move. He just slowly lay his head back down and watched the man sleep. For nearly an hour he lay there, even as his bladder began to make itself known.

He knew the instant that the man started to wake… He was unable to stop the slight tremor in his body when the man sighed, and opened his eyes.

Jean Luc stared at the wide eyed child, taking in the slight quiver he felt in the small body under his hand. He smiled and said “Bonjour, mon fils… did y’ sleep well?” The boy swallowed, and nodded slightly. “C’est bien” The man said, and rubbed his hand up and down the child’s back before he sat up. “C’mon now… up. Got t’ings dat need tendin’ to. An’ first t’ing in de mornin’, dat usually mean answerin’ de call o’ nature.” The little boy paused a moment, but then scrambled out of the bed, making Jean Luc grin; he had called it. The boy had to pee.

The morning was crisp and cold, and a thick mist was rolling in off of the river. Silently, the child followed the Rom Baro into the woods and found himself a bush to hide behind. Of course, Jean Luc didn’t let the child go far, worried that he might try to run… but his fear of the boy running rested in the idea of what would happen to him if he returned to the town… But to his surprise, and delight, the child came wandering back to him, his little hands gripping the hem of Jean Luc’s tunic, that fell nearly down to his knees. He stumbled at one point, wincing, and Jean Luc was reminded of his bare feet. When the child reached him, he picked him up and balanced him on his hip, heading back into camp. After a moment, the little boy curled hesitant arms around his neck, and the man smiled… trust was beginning to be built…

Smiling down at the much too slender child, Jean Luc said “Let’s get y’ some breakfast, an’ den we see about clothes, oui?” The child looked up at him, shyly, and gave a little nod.

“Well, look at dis!”

Jean Luc chuckled when the little boy nearly jumped out of his skin, and clung tightly to the man. But then the child saw Tante Mattie, and relaxed slightly. “How’d he sleep, Jean Luc?”

“All t’rough de night.” Jean Luc declared, sounding very pleased. He sat down on a log by the campfire and settled the child in his lap, keeping him safely within the circle of his arms. Mattie was smiling, and several others observed the child.

“Ah, look at ‘im…” Mattie exclaimed, walking over with a bowl in her hands. She reached out and stroked his coppery hair. “De child be so beau, Jean Luc…” She sat on the log beside the man, and said “Good mornin’, child…” The little boy looked up at her with shy eyes. She beamed, reaching out and taking his chin in her fingers and lifting his face. “Oh, he be a beautiful little boy…” She sighed. “Jus’ beautiful…” Jean Luc chuckled when the child blushed, and hid his face in his chest. Mattie was looking like she had fallen in love with the kid already.

“Come, child…” She said softly, and Jean Luc moved to set the boy on the log between himself and Mattie. The boy looked nervous, but was then staring down at the bowl that Mattie had pushed into his hands. It was full of porridge, with cream and fruit. Mattie smiled down at him and began to stroke his hair as he started wolfing down the food, clutching the bowl close and hunching over it, protectively. Jean Luc started running his own hand up and down the child’s back, sad to see him as he was… guarding his food, eating as much as he could as fast as he could… and oh, so very thin…

“Shhh… Slow down, mon fils…” He said, gently. “You gon' make y’self sick, eatin’ like dat.”

“No one’s takin’ it away, petit,” Mattie assured him. “Sit up straight now… small bites, chew. Gotta teach you some manners, child.”

“Mattie… We gotta find de boy some clothes…” Jean Luc said, accepting his own breakfast from her.

“Oui… soon as de boy’s had his fill.” Mattie nodded, watching the child sit up just a little bit straighter, and slow down his eating. Slightly… Jean Luc had to chastise him several times to slow down. But finally, his bowl was empty, and Mattie was pressing a cup of milk into his hands. He drank it down and blinked up at the woman, who cooed over him and wiped the milk moustache from his face with the corner of her shawl, before leaning in and kissing his forehead. She brushed his hair out of his face and studied his black and red eyes, and then, with a smile, she asked, “what’s yo’ name, petit?”

The little boy blinked, then lowered his eyes and looked away, scooting close to Jean Luc once more. Chuckling, the man stood, lifting the child into his arms. Mattie sighed and the pair headed over to one of the wagons, where a small family was eating their breakfast. They had two children of their own, both boys.

“Jaques?” Jean Luc called.

“Bonjour!” The man greeted, standing. “Dis be de boy I heard ‘bout, boss?”

“Oui… stole my purse, he did…” Jean Luc chuckled, looking down at the little boy, hiding his face in the man’s cloak. Jaques eyed the tunic that engulfed the child, and the slender bare leg. “Got any hand-me-downs I can buy off y’?” Jean Luc asked, glancing at the man’s two sons.

“Oui! Of course! We work out a fair trade later, non?” Jaques nodded, his wife already moving into the wagon. She returned a few minutes later, her arms laden with clothes. Smiling, she passed them off to Mattie, and they returned to Jean Luc’s wagon. Once there, Jean Luc sat the boy down on the edge of the bed and knelt before him, untying the strings on the shirt. The boy looked worried but he held still, watching the man’s every move with sharp eyes.

Jean Luc glanced up and him and smiled, saying, “If y’ don’t tell me y’ name, mon fils, gonna have t’make one up fo’ yo’, oui?” The boy said nothing. “Alrigh’ den… maybe I call y’ Renard.” The child blinked. “Means, ‘fox’.” Jean Luc explained, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. “Y’ got dat handsome color o’ de fox in y’ hair… An’ y’ be quick, an’ clever, non?” He pulled his tunic away and the naked child curled his fingers into the blankets, nervously.

“Here we go, den.” Mattie announced, walking over. “Getcha all dressed, mon petit renardeau…” And she wrestled the boy into some undergarments, and then drew up some soft, worn leather breeches, cinching them tight around his tiny waist. She put some woolen socks on his little feet, and Jean Luc helped him tug on a pair of boots that were scuffed, but still in excellent condition. The child looked amazed and delighted, wiggling his toes in the socks and boots. He looked up at the two adults who were smiling down at him, and held up his arms to allow them to get the clean tunic on him. Jean Luc tied it closed and Mattie knelt, holding a bolt of a rich, crimson fabric, “T’ match does beautiful eyes.” She wrapped it around his waist and tied the sash off, then smiled.

“Oui… y’ be so handsome, petit homme… Y’ make a wonderful gypsy, don’t you t’ink, Jean Luc?”

“Born t’ be one of us, Tante Mattie.” Jean Luc grinned, patting the boy on the head, though Mattie could see the sadness hidden in the man’s eyes when he took in the sight of the child’s gaunt cheeks.

Then, there was a knock on the door and Jean Luc called for the knocker to enter.

A man walked in, glancing at the child who was now hiding behind Jean Luc, and peeking out at him from between the man’s arm and waist.

“Philip?” Jean Luc asked.

“Uh… Asked around dis mornin’.” The man said, and looked pointedly at the child.

“I see… Be righ’ back.” The Rom Baro said, stroking Remy’s hair and leaving him with Tante Mattie, following the man outside and strolling away from the wagon and into the woods. “What y’ find out?”

“De boy’s name is Remy.” Philip said. “He be an’ orphan. Sa mère était une prostituée.

Jean Luc sighed and bowed his head, repeating, “a prostitute. Why’m I not surprised?”

“Oui… when she gave birt’ t’ de child in de brothel, dey take one look at ‘is eyes an’ t’row her out. She went to de church fo’ help.”

“And?” Jean Luc asked.

“… She was handed over, an’ burned as a witch. De child ran away from de church when he was small… went to de streets.”

“Ce pauvre garcon…” Jean Luc murmured.

“De whole town knows ‘im.” Philip said.

“An’ no one ever helped ‘im?”

“Non.” Philip shook his head. “Dey all hate ‘im. Fear ‘im… call ‘im Le Diable Blanc…”

“De White Devil…” Jean Luc breathed.

“He was de reason his mere was burned at de stake… ‘Cause she birthed a devil child…”

“Connards! Il es juste an enfant… He be a CHILD!” And he stormed away and headed back to camp, seizing his horse and mounting, spurring the stallion into a gallop towards the city, his eyes on the steeple of the church. He had dismounted his horse, even as the beast was still slowing to a stop and threw himself forward to pound on the door.

It was quickly opened and a priest was staring up at him curiously, and his eyes widened when he took in the appearance of the man before him and realized he was Romani. He did not look pleased, but he allowed the man inside.

“Who be in charge here?” Jean Luc asked.

“I am.” He turned, watching an old man in long, humble robes approach. “I am Father Simon… What may I do for you, monsieur?”

“I wanna know ‘bout de boy wit’ de red eyes…” Jean Luc said. “Remy. I hear he used t’ live here.” The priests’ eyes darkened.

“You are the one who has taken in the boy?” The old man asked and frowned when the Romani nodded. “That child is born of evil, monsieur. You would do best to turn him out and never look upon him again.”

“He be a little boy!” Jean Luc snapped, glaring.

“The child should never have been born!” Father Simon shot back.

Jean Luc took a deep breath, but the priest continued. “I know you think you are doing a kindness…” Simon said, waving the Rom Baro to follow him into the church. “Taking in an orphan. I can see that your heart is in the right place, monsieur, but there are other orphans more deserving of your help. We have several here in the church, if you are looking to adopt.”

“You had de boy here, once.”

“We did.” Simon nodded. “We were unable to help him.”

“Help him how?” Jean Luc asked.

“We were unable to banish the devil from him.”

“What devil?!”

“You’ve seen his eyes.” The Priest stated, as if surprised Jean Luc had to ask.

“I wish to see de records on de boy…” Jean Luc growled. The priest nodded silently, moving into what seemed to be the office. He drew down a roll of parchment, tied with a rosary, as if to ward off, or even seal in, evil, and placed it into the Rom Baro’s hands.

“Take them. I hope this opens your eyes…” The priest said, making the Sign of the Cross at him, and Jean Luc took the paper and left, clenching his jaw. He made his way to the town square, to watch the festival kicking off, as his people were performing in it. Once he was satisfied that things were going smoothly, he made his way to one of the taverns for lunch and finally, he unrolled the documents and began to read.

The more he read, the more his lunch soured in his stomach… the more angry he became, and the more his heart broke. The dark look on his face when he returned to camp sent his people scurrying out of his way, though his son followed him at a careful distance. He found Mattie and the little boy, Remy, by the main fire with several of the women, apparently teaching the boy the finer points of cooking. But when Mattie saw him, she leaned down and murmured into Remy’s ear. The child looked up at her, nervously, but he nodded and allowed another woman to sit beside him, coaxing him to taste the stew they were preparing.

Mattie and Henri followed Jean Luc to his wagon, and they stepped inside. “Y’ look pissed.” Mattie observed, and Jean Luc thrust the papers towards her.

“Read. Jus’… READ!” He spat, pacing. She accepted the papers and looked down, Henri peering down at them over her shoulder.

“Dis his Birt’ Certificate? Ah… he’s nine years old!”

“Remy, eh?” Henri asked, smiling slightly.

“READ!”

“His mother…” Mattie read. “Vivienne de… Jezebel Whore?!” She cried in horror.

“Look at his pere!” Jean Luc commanded.

“… Lucifer de Morning Star?!” Mattie and Henri blurted in unison.

“Oui!” Jean Luc snarled. “Dat boy ran away from de church when he was six. But befo’ dat, dey done told dat child dat his father is de devil, an’ his mother was de devil’s Mistress, an’ had sold her soul when she allowed him to impregnate her. Dey all but told him he’s de Antichrist!”

Mattie was ruffling through the papers now, glancing them over. “His father had… red eyes?”

“De mother reported dat she didn’t know de father’s name. But dat he had silver skin, like metal, black hair an’ red eyes…” Jean Luc sighed. “T’ink he was one of dem… mutants. But all dey could say was dat he was Satan ‘imself.”

“… EXORCISM?!?!” Mattie shrieked suddenly, staring at the papers. “Dey put dat boy t’rough exorcisms?!?”

“Oui…” Jean Luc sighed, sinking down to sit on the edge of his bed and braced his elbows on his knees, letting his head hang. “Sometimes two, t’ree times a week… Dey was tryin’ t’ banish de evil from de boy…” He shook his head. “Told him dat if dey were unable t’ do so by de time he come of age… dey would have no choice but to… burn him. Like dey did his mere… Dey had him livin’ in de barn… told him dat de son of de Beast would live wit’ de other beasts… Wasn’t worthy t’ sleep in God’s House!” He spat on the floor at that. “Dey taught him de Bible, but only to point out what dey believed would condemn de child. If another child got in trouble, he would be punished too… said dat his mere presence led de other children to commit sin. Was raised by de church, but wasn’t allowed t’ go to church. Said dat no one should see de Devil’s Child… He grew up bein’ told dat he’s an abomination! Would never absolve him when he asked fo’ fo’giveness… told him dat nothin’ could save his soul… dat he was damned from birth…”

“Jean Luc…” Mattie moaned, tears running down her face as she looked over the records.

“Mon Dieu…” Henri moaned, suddenly. He was staring in shock at the papers in his hands. “He asked about suicide!!! A five year old!”

“He WHAT?!” Mattie gasped in horror.

Henri nodded, handing her the papers to see for herself. “Asked if dat could save his soul! An’ dey… dey…”

“Je sais…" Jean Luc nodded. "Dey told him it don’t matte’… dat he ain’t got a soul…”

“Mon Dieu… oh, mon Dieu… Dey tortured dat po’ child…” Mattie wept.

“Je sais… mais, dey ain’t NEVER gonna do it again… Won’t let ‘em, me.”

“… Remy…” Mattie murmured then. “His name’s Remy…” Jean Luc nodded, and she tried to smile. “It fits ‘im…”

“Oh, I dunno… I t’ink Renard be rather fittin’ non?” Jean Luc chuckled, and Mattie rolled her eyes.

“Enough. Go t’ your son, Jean Luc…” Mattie told him softly, smiling. “I t’ink dere be a lot o’ words you need t’ share wit’ him… Den he need t’ meet his frere, non?” And Henri grinned.

“Always wanted a little brother, me!”

Jean Luc nodded and rose, stepping outside, his eyes immediately seeking out the little boy. He strode over and the boy turned, watching him come with large eyes. When he reached him, Jean Luc knelt, placing on hand on the boy’s shoulder, and pet his hair with the other. Then he leaned in and kissed his forehead, before picking him up and carrying him back to his wagon, which Henri and Mattie had slipped out of, after tucking away the documents in Jean Luc’s desk. Jean Luc brought the child in, and gently set him down on the bed, and then set himself down next to him.

He stroked the little boy’s hair, a smile on his face.

“My name is Jean Luc LeBeau.” He said then. “I am Rom Baro. Dat means, I am de leader of dis clan. I watch over dem, and I protect dem. And now, I will do dat fo’ you.” He took a deep breath. “Your name is Remy.” The child’s eyes widened in shock. “ An’ you be nine years old, oui?” They child just eyed him. Jean Luc sighed. “I talked to de priests.” Now the child looked fearful. “And I am… very angry. I will never… NEVER, let dem touch you again. Dey will never hurt you again. Dey done nothin’ but lie t’ you, mon fils…”

He pulled the child into his lap, and stared him in the eye. “You are NOT de Devil’s Child! D’you hear me?! You are jus’ as human as I am. An’ you have a soul, just as I do. An’ you be jus’ as worthy of love. You are NOT evil. And you are NOT damned. Dey be not’in’ but superstitious fools, who hurt you t’ make demselves feel righteous! But one day, dey will face judgement for de cruelties dey done to you… Dey get deirs… I promise.”

He smiled then, staring at the boy who had tears welling up in his eyes. “You are Remy LeBeau now. You be a part o’ dis clan. An’ you be my son. D’you hear me, Remy LeBeau? You are MY SON… I’m your papa now… an’ I always will be.” And he pulled the child in close and hugged him tight.

Remy blinked his wide eyes, and the tears fell as he rested his head on the man’s shoulder, curling thin arms around his neck… and for the first time, he felt a warmth in his thin chest… a taste of hope…


	3. Chapter 3

Jean Luc didn’t not attend the festival nearly as much as he normally did. No, he spent most of his time in camp, with the small child he had taken in. He would not let the child out of his sight… if he had to go somewhere, the boy would stay under Mattie’s watchful eye, or with Henri… He had been introduced to Henri and told that the young man was his big brother. Remy had looked intrigued at the concept, but was very shy... Henri didn’t let it discourage him. At meal times, he began to sneak Remy little extra treats while Jean Luc pretended not to be looking, and the child slowly began to relax and show less fear around the young man. For nearly a week they remained, and upon the conclusion of the festival they began to pack up and break camp, ready to move on to the next town.

At dawn, Jean Luc was showing little Remy, who still had yet to speak a single word, or even offer a smile, how to hitch up the two horse team to the wagon, when several priests and guards came down from the city.

Jean Luc was alerted to their presence when the child beside him froze like a statue. When looked up at him, he took in the pale face and wide eyes, frightened and near wild, and he whirled. Narrowing his eyes, he stood and placed himself between the men and the boy, reaching a hand back to ensure that Remy was protected. Little fingers curled around his own and clutched to him, tightly. He squeezed the trembling hand, trying to reassure him. He felt, more than saw, his own people halting their work to watch, several of the men moving in to back up their Rom Baro, should trouble start. Henri himself was by his father’s side, and his fingers brushed Remy’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Bonjour…” Jean Luc greeted, his voice hard and low.

“Bonjour, monsieur…” Said Father Simon, glancing at the single red eye that peered out at him from behind the Rom Baro and his son.

“What d’you want?” 

“… You have read the documents?” Father Simon asked.

“Oui.”

“We have come for the boy.”

“Porquoi?”

“… to purge the world of his evil, monsieur. To cleanse him through fire, most holy…”

“To burn him?!” Mattie cried, rage and shock in her voice, and Henri growled.

“Oui, madame…” Father Simon said, as if this were a perfectly reasonable thing.

“Non!” Jean Luc barked, fighting back his own fury. “Absolutely not!”

“You have read the documents, monsieur… Surely you must know what he is.”

“Oui. Je sais…” Jean Luc nodded. “He be an innocent child, tortured an’ persecuted by paranoid, superstitious tyrants, hiding behind de robes of holy men!!!”

The priests looked highly affronted at that.

“Monsieur…” Father Simon ground out, stiffly. “You must not allow Le Diable Blanc to corrupt your soul.”

“De only corrupt souls I see, be yours.” Henri snapped then, and drew his rapier. 

Remy gasped, watching as Jean Luc gripped the hilt of his own blade and stepped forwards slightly, declaring “I’ll not allow you t’ lay a hand on de boy again! D’you hear?! De boy is mine, now. My child. My son… an’ I protect him now. From any who would hurt him… most especially de likes o’ you!”

The guards drew their own blades, and then, so did the Romani, moving in to support their Rom Baro.

But Father Simon held up his hands to the guards. “The choice is yours, monsieur… I just hope you are prepared to live with the consequences… you have allowed the Devil into your camp… a wolf in amongst sheep… beware, monsieur… one day, he will take your soul. And you will be lost.”

Jean Luc stared at the priest and then turned and looked down. Remy stared back up at him, eyes swimming in tears. Jean Luc smiled down at him and caressed his hair under his hand, then lifted the child into his arms and hugged him close, kissing his hair. Remy wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and his legs around his waist, hiding his face into the Rom Baro’s neck. Then Jean Luc looked at the priests and the guards and nodded, saying “I’ll risk it.” And then he turned around and headed to his wagon, calling “MOVE OUT!!!”

Immediately, the troupe did as commanded, and within mere minutes, the wagons were on the move, Mattie in the lead, perched upon Jean Luc’s wagon, whipping the team into motion. Henri set himself upon his large buckskin stallion and remained stationary, a sentry to guard the caravan as it began to pass the soldiers and priests, ready to move if they tried to stop the troupe. As the first wagon went by, the priests stared… Jean Luc stood in the doorway at the back of the wagon, staring right back at them, Le Diable Blanc cradled protectively in his arms. Then he stepped back and closed the door, and the Romani were on their way.

The priests and the guards returned to the town, and Henri fell in at the end of the caravan line, looking back several times, just to make sure they were not being followed…and in the first wagon, Jean Luc set Remy down on the bed and knelt before him, wiping his tears away and smiling as the child clutched his wrists and stared down at him, a look of wonder on his face.

“Je taime, mon fils…” Jean Luc murmured. His reward was the barest shadow of a smile, and a child snuggling close in his embrace…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The journey between towns was peaceful. Jean Luc and Tante Mattie would drive the wagon, Remy perched between them. Henri often rode his horse beside them. The three would take turns singing to Remy, telling him stories, and telling him all about the troupe. They would point people out and tell him their names, and what their role was in the troupe. Henri would tell silly jokes, putting his efforts into bringing a few smiles to the little boy.

Once they were several days away from the town that Remy had lived in all his life, Jean Luc began to encourage him to socialize with the other children. But Remy was afraid. Jean Luc was discouraged, and asked Remy if the other children in the town had been mean to him. Breaking his heart all over again, the little boy’s face fell, and he gave a little nod. Jean Luc had said “Surely you had a few friends, mon fils…”

The little boy, staring at the ground, shook his head. Jean Luc had been devastated. He questioned Remy further… surely there had been someone in the town who had been kind to the boy… someone who would have given him a gentle word… some food. Perhaps shelter, in the winter. But the boy just kept shaking his head, over and over. He had truly been alone, and Jean Luc wept for him, when the boy was with Mattie...

When they arrived at the next town on their route, Remy had gazed upon it in amazement… he had never been outside the walls of the city before. His wonder at the forests and meadows had been enchanting, and now, his amazement at a new city made Jean Luc and Mattie grin at each other. But Jean Luc was cautious. Afraid to lose the child, he insisted the Remy stay in the camp. He promised to take the boy into town later, when he would be able to focus solely on the child, and not on making the arrangements for the troupe to participate in the festival.

But that didn’t happen…

The second day they were there, Mattie had given Remy a bucket, and asked him to please bring her water from the river, which they were camped near. Jean Luc had come to her about fifteen minutes later, looked around and said “Where’s Remy?”

Mattie blinked up at him and then straightened up, abruptly. “… I sent ‘im t’ get water from de river… he shoulda been back by now…”

Jean Luc’s eyes darkened and he was immediately striding away, urgency in his steps. And he had good reason… when he arrived at the river, he found a wooden bucket on its side on the river bank.

“… Remy?!” He called, looking around, worried. “Remy?!?” He turned and began to run upstream, where there was a trail of grass that had been flattened down by several feet. Shortly after, he heard a commotion. Men, shouting… and then, over that, a shrill cry. He didn’t recognize the voice, but he knew who it was… 

“… Non!!! S'il-te-plaît arrête! Vous me faites mal! Papa! Papa, Aide moi!”

Jean Luc’s heart was in his throat when he heard those words… ‘No!!! Please stop! You’re hurting me! Papa! Papa, help me!’ His mind was assaulted by the horrible vision that had tormented him when he had first taken in the child… visions of the child, pinned down and stripped of his clothes, screaming as his innocent body was brutally violated…

He skidded past a copse of trees, and came upon the scene. He broke into a cold sweat of relief; the child was still fully dressed. But there his relief ended, and the fierce lion came roaring to the forefront, ready to protect his cub with whatever it took. He felt bogged down in a surreal slow motion as he charged forwards, drawing a throwing knife, as it was the only chance to stop the horrible torture about to take place. For his son, his Remy, had been pinned to the ground by fully grown men, his head held still and his hair pushed back, as another approached with a sharp stick that had been placed in the campfire nearby; the point was glowing orange…

His eyes… dear God, they were going to put out Remy’s eyes… The child was fighting for all he was worth, screaming his terror as the stick came closer… and then there was a sharp whistle, a wet THUNK, and the man dropped the stick only inches shy of Remy and staggered back with a strangled yell, hand going to the knife in his shoulder. 

Then came the thunderous roar, and Jean Luc tackled down two of the men who had been pinning Remy down. The child immediately twisted and wriggled away from the others and scrambled away on all fours, to huddle at the base of a large tree. There, he finally identified what had happened… Jean Luc was there… he was protecting him, just as he had promised. And Remy was amazed.

He jumped at the shrill metallic ring of Jean Luc drawing his rapier and facing off with the half dozen men that had dragged Remy to this place. Only two of them had swords, which they drew, the others raised farming tools, that could easily be just as deadly. Now Remy was afraid again, but Jean Luc did not back down. He placed himself between Remy and his tormentors, glaring.

“I’ll not allow you t’ harm a hair on dat child’s head!” Jean Luc roared, and for a moment, Remy thought he could actually feel the man’s rage, and a hint of fear. But it was gone as soon as it had come.

“The boy has the Devil in his eyes!” One of the men spat. “They must be put out!”

“I kill you iffn y’ try t’ set one foot near dat child!” Jean Luc raged, incensed. A moment later, and Mattie appeared around the trees, along with several of the men from the troupe. Swords were drawn, crossbows raised, and Mattie fell to her knees beside Remy, lifting her skirt and dabbing at his split lip. Remy pushed her away, fearful gaze locked on Jean Luc, who now had Henri backing him up as well. The seconds ticked by, agonizingly slow… And then, finally, the men lowered their weapons, not ready to tangle with the Romani backing up their Rom Baro. They fled, the one man still trailing drops of blood, having pulled out the throwing knife and dropping it into the withered grass.

Jean Luc took a calming breath and sheathed his sword, then turned.

“… PAPA!!!” Remy cried suddenly, startling the other gypsies as he flung himself to his feet and ran forwards, dodging around Henri. Jean Luc, also startled, dropped to his knees and opened his arms just in time to catch the crying little boy and hold him close.

“Shhh…” He soothed, holding the boy tightly. “Shhh… S’alright, mon fils… I gotcha now… y’ safe here in m’ arms… I’ve gotcha… Shhhh…”

After a moment, there was a soft whisper in his ear… “Y’ came…?”

“O’ course I did…” Jean Luc answered, stroking the cinnamon hair as he marveled at the fact that suddenly, the boy was talking...

“… y’ protected Remy…”

“Oui.”

“… pourquoi?”

Jean Luc furrowed his brow at that, pushing Remy back and looking him in the eye, placing both hands on his cheeks. “B’cause I’m your Papa now…” He told him. “And dat’s what a Papa does. Dey protect deir sons, b’cause dey love dem.” Remy sniffled, lowering his head and lightly holding Jean Luc’s wrists. Jean Luc smiled, kissing his forehead and picking him up, holding Remy on his hip. Remy wrapped his arms around the Rom Baro’s neck and his legs around his waist, and the gypsies made their way back to camp, Tante Mattie hovering around Jean Luc and Remy like a bee around a flower, as Jean Luc scolded her, laughing. The gypsy men grinned and chuckled at Mattie when she gave a great snort and started bitching at Jean Luc for anything and everything under the sun…

One of the men elbowed another and pointed at Remy… the child was peeking over Jean Luc’s shoulder, staring at Mattie and looking like he wasn’t sure if the woman was funny or not… The two gypsies snickered under their breath.

Upon returning to camp, Jean Luc brought Remy straight to their wagon and sat the boy on his desk in the light of the window and the open door so that he could inspect his injuries. He had a split lip and a bloody nose, and his jaw was bruising a bit. Jean Luc unwound the sash from Remy’s waist and helped him take off his shirt, revealing more bruising, several of which had been left by cruel hands gripping the boy’s arm.

Mattie came in a few minutes later with Henri carrying her supplies to tend to Remy’s injuries. As she worked she would huff and tut and sometimes just start ranting about the stupidity and cruelty of mankind. This would sometimes progress into going off on a tirade on some random tangent that had Remy looking beyond confused, and Henri and Jean Luc grinning. But finally, she finished with another huff and a “jus’ some bruisin’… he be a bit sore fo’ de next day o’ so, but he be fine.”

“Bien…” Jean Luc nodded. 

Henri looked at his Rom Baro and said, “Papa, I t’ink it best not t’ wait any longer t’ start de boy’s lessons…”

“I agree…” Jean Luc nodded.

“… Lessons?” Remy asked, softly. 

Mattie beamed at him, holding his cheeks and gushing “Oh, dere be dat lovely voice! Been waitin’ so long t’ hear dat!” Remy looked baffled. “Y’ ain’t talked once since Jean Luc brought y’ home, petit.”

“… Not s’posed t’ talk…” Remy mumbled, averting his eyes.

“Now, who told y’ dat?” Mattie snorted.

“Pere Simon…” Remy answered, and Jean Luc scoffed while Henri just straight up made a rude noise. “He say children s’posed t’ be seen, not heard.” Remy elaborated. “An’… an’ Remy’s voice be de voice of evil, an’ shouldn’t neve’ be heard…”

“Pere Simon be an’ old fool of a goat!” Mattie spat.

“De man be an ass.” Jean Luc drawled, and Remy stared at him in shock, before a little smile of amusement came to his face. “Want t’ hear you speak, mon fils. If y’ got questions, y’ ask. If you be happy, I wanna know. If y’ sad, I wanna know. You can tell y’ papa anyt’ing… Whatever y’ have t’ say, I wanna hear it. Y’ silence makes me sad…”

“Very sad…” Mattie nodded, vehemently. Remy just looked amazed.

“Y’ know…” Jean Luc mused, absently pacing. “A gypsy often relies on deir voice… We be entertainers… singers, dancers…” He smiled at Remy. “Story tellers. We charm de crowd wit’ honeyed words… It be how we earn de coin we need t’ buy supplies we rely on t’ live.”

“… Remy do dis?” The little boy asked, and Jean Luc cocked his head, wondering why the child seemed to like to refer to himself in the third person…

“Yo’ Papa gon’ teach y’ everyt’ing y’ need t’ know, mon petit…” Mattie told him, helping him back into his shirt. “An’ when we find what y’ be good at, we decide what y’ do… But gotta know de basics.”

“Basics?”

“Dere be a lot to learn.” Henri grinned, and Jean Luc nodded. 

“We start wit’ de physical t’ings while it still be autumn. In de winter, when de snow come in, we work on de intellectual t’ings…” He saw Remy’s confused look. “Learnin’ fo’ de mind.” He clarified. “We teach y’ to read an’ write… teach y’ languages… de songs an’ stories of de clan…”

“An’… de physical?” Remy asked.

“Y’ find out tomorrow, mon fils…” Jean Luc smiled.

And find out he did… early in the morning, Jean Luc shook Remy awake, telling him to get dressed and come outside. Remy did as his papa told him, groggy as he scrambled out of his bunk over his papa’s. He shivered as he stepped outside; the morning was gray, and mist covered the ground. Jean Luc held some sticks and an axe in his hands. He gestured for Remy to follow him and Remy did so, scampering to keep up so as not to get lost in the fog. They made their way into the woods, and into a clearing. Henri was already there, dressed and armed. He smiled and nodded at Remy, who gave him a little wave.

“Stand up straight.” Jean Luc commanded, and Remy did so. The man planted one of the sticks in the frosted earth beside Remy and eyed it, compared with Remy’s height. Then, nodding to himself, he leaned the stick up against the tree, swung the axe and cut it in two with a single blow. Then he held up both pieces. One was taller than Remy by a few inches, and the other was about the length of the boy’s arm. Jean Luc nodded in satisfaction, and offered them to Remy, who slowly took them.

“Dis one,” Jean Luc said, tapping the taller one, “be your staff. An’ dis, your sword. You will learn t’ use both. You’ll learn t’ t’row de knives. Fire de crossbows. You’ll learn t’ fight wit’ y’ hands. To defend y’self. Dis be very important. Can’t be wit’ y’ all de time, mon fils… My job as y’ papa t’ make sure dat if I ain’t dere t’ protect you, dat y’ can protect y’self…”

Remy nodded his understanding.

“We start wit’ de staff.” Jean Luc said, having Remy lay down his little stick sword. Jean Luc and Henri took up their own staves, smooth and shiny from use, and the lessons began.

Over the next few weeks, Jean Luc was pleased; Remy was a diligent and attentive pupil. And he was also a very quick learner. He determined in no time that while Remy would easily become adept with the sword, the staff seemed to be made for him.

They trained with them almost every morning, and in the afternoon Remy began to take on a share of the chores in camp, frequently under Henri’s direction, and finally began to socialize with the other children. He seemed amazed that none of them were put off by his eyes.

One morning, after they had arrived at one of the last towns on their rounds for the year, Jean Luc had cancelled Remy’s training as he and Henri had business in town. Remy was confused when he wasn’t able to find the other children. Smiling, Mattie pointed up a hill, where the sun shone through a gap in the trees. Curious, Remy scrambled up the hill and crested it, stepping into the sun. Before him was a broad meadow, filled with the yellowing grasses and ringed by the remainder of the fiery trees touched by autumn. And in the meadow were a few gypsy men with most of the children. And the children were running, tumbling, skipping, twisting and flipping about in fantastic displays of acrobatics. Remy was entranced. He stood there under a large tree and watched, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

After some time, one of the gypsies cleared his throat, gaining the attention of one of his fellow instructors, and glanced pointedly at the trees.

“Oui… curious lil’ t’ing, non?” The man smiled. The pair watched Remy watching the other children for a spell, and then the second gypsy sighed and shook his head, chuckling to himself, and crossed the meadow in long strides. When Remy realized he had been spotted and was being approached, he tensed and felt the fear tighten his belly.

“Bonjour…” The gypsy man smiled. Remy’s brain raced… Olivier. This man was Olivier. Then the man was before him, and knelt… and he smiled, glancing over his shoulder at the other children. “Y’ like watchin’ dem, petit?” Olivier asked, and Remy nodded, silently. “Would y’ like t’ learn?” Remy now stared at Olivier, eyes widening again and mouth falling open. Olivier grinned. “Take dat as a ‘oui’…” And he stood. “Alright den. We begin now.” And he held out his hand. Remy looked flabbergasted, but after a moment’s hesitation he accepted the hand and was drawn into the field, a smile of wonder taking over as the other children called out enthusiastic welcomes to him.

When Jean Luc returned, a smiling Mattie pointed him up the hill. Jean Luc mounted the hill and broke through the trees, blinking in the sun. Then he stared, processing for a moment, before a grin overtook his face. The children were having their acrobatics lessons… and off to the side Olivier was with Remy, laughing along with the child as they somersaulted and cartwheeled across the grass. Then, with Olivier’s hands to guide and catch if balance was lost, Remy moved into a shaky handstand. Olivier praised him happily, glancing up and catching Jean Luc’s eye, throwing his Rom Baro a wink before catching Remy as he toppled to the side, laughing. And oh, that sound… it was the first time Jean Luc had heard it, and it brought tears of joy to his eyes. Then Olivier was scooping up the boy in his arms, and Remy shrieked in delight, wriggling around as he was tickled. Then Olivier murmured something into his ear and Remy twisted around.

“Papa!!!” He cried happily, and Olivier set him on his feet. Remy was running from the moment his bare toes had touched the grass and flew into Jean Luc’s arms, more laughter bubbling up as he was snatched up and flung into the air, then caught and brought down into an embrace. “Oh, Papa!” He exclaimed, eyes sparkling and cheeks red in the chill autumn air.

“Y’ havin’ fun, mon fils?” Jean Luc asked, unable to tame his own grin as he took in the child’s joy.

“Oui!!! Je m’amuse beaucoup!!!”

“A LOT of fun?!” Jean Luc gasped dramatically, pretending to drop the child, catching him a split second later, making Remy gasp and then laugh again, clinging to him.

“Mais oui!” Remy nodded. “May… may Remy do dis every day?!”

“Oh… not every day…” Jean Luc chuckled, and Remy’s face fell. “Dey don’t do dis every day… But y’ can do it a few days every week, alrigh’? Still need t’ practice wit’ y’ staff, oui?”

“Oh… Oui, Papa!” Remy nodded, looking quite pleased with this.

“Bien!” Jean Luc nodded, setting Remy down. “Den it be settled! Go back t’ Olivier an’ finish y’ lessons fo’ t’day… train hard!”

“Oui, Papa!” Remy called over his shoulder as he ran back to Olivier, who was grinning at the child’s happy enthusiasm. He and Jean Luc nodded to each other, and Jean Luc reluctantly left the meadow, to get some more work done while his son was occupied. When he reached camp, Mattie looked up at him.

“Where be t’ fils?” She asked, quirking a brow at the residual smile that still clung to the Rom Baro’s features.

“Remy has discovered de uh… art of tumblin’…” Jean Luc chuckled, and Mattie grinned. “… He be laughin’, Tante… Ain’t heard de boy laugh ‘til today…”

“Oh! Dat’s wonderful!” The woman exclaimed. “De boy finally be settlin’ in, non?”

“Oui…” Jean Luc nodded, and headed to his wagon. 

At lunch time, the children all came running down the hill back to camp, laughing and talking. Remy followed, holding hands with Olivier and Andre, one of the other gypsy men who had been teaching the children. Andre was smiling down at Remy and saying “We do de acrobatics on Tuesdays an’ T’ursdays. So you train wit’ ton pere on Mondays an’ Fridays, oui?”

They had reached Jean Luc then, and the Rom Baro listened to this little plan with his arms crossed, and a little smirk on his face.

“What ‘bout de ot’er days?” Remy asked, blinking his eyes up at Andre, who grinned.

“Ah, petit homme…” He exclaimed, grinning. “On Wednesdays an’ Saturdays… nous dansons!!” And he picked up Remy and tossed him a bit, making Remy gasp.

“Dance?!”

“Mais oui!” Andre exclaimed.

“We be Romani, petit.” Olivier was grinning. “It be in our blood. Part of how we live! Now… it be yours, too. Time y’ learn.” Remy twisted about in Andre’s arms and looked back at Jean Luc.

“May I, Papa?!”

“Mais bien sur, Remy.” Jean Luc nodded. “Like Olivier say… it be part o’ who we are.”

“… But… Remy not… anyone.” Remy mumbled, drooping.

“Y’ are.” Jean Luc said, firmly. “Y’ jus’ be a bit diff’rent.” Andre set Remy down, and the little boy wrapped his arms around Jean Luc’s waist, sighing at the hand stroking his hair. “Y’ eyes make y’ diff’rent, Remy. But dat’s it. Ot’erwise, y’ be de same as all de ot’ers. What makes y’ who you are, is what makes y’ TRULY diff’rent. An’ if bein’ who y’ are is what makes y’ diff’rent dan everyone else… makes y’ REMY… den how can y’ not be anyone? You be REMY. An’ dat’s all I want y’ t’ be. An’ if y’ want Remy t’ be a dancer… a fighter, an acrobat, a story teller, a healer, a warrior… Dat be yo’ choice, mon fils. An’ it be de choice dat only YOU can make.” He knelt and looked Remy in the eye. “So… wha’d YOU wanna be?”

Remy stared at him for a moment and then let a devlish smile take over his face. “EVERYT’ING!”

Jean Luc, Andre and Olivier all burst out laughing. Jean Luc stood, ruffling Remy’s hair. “Dat gon’ take a LOT o’ work, Remy. But iff’n y’ willin’ t’ work hard… Den you BE everyt’ing!!!”

“Je ferai, Papa! Remy be everyt’ing!”

“A Jack of all Trades…” Andre mused, grinning at Jean Luc. “Dis’ll be in’erestin’…”

“Dat it will…” Jean Luc nodded, watching Remy scamper over to his Tante Mattie, who laughed and caught him, covering his face with kisses, grinning in delight when the child shrieked with laughter, letting her hear it for the first time. She shot Jean Luc an ecstatic grin, which he returned. Remy was finally opening up, stepping out of his shell and being a little boy…


	4. Chapter 4

As the days grew shorter, the nights longer, and the wind began to bite, the troupe was getting closer and closer to their southern winter grounds, near the French coast of the Mediterranean, a few hundred leagues northeast of Spain. Remy had taken to his lessons with the rest of the children with great joy and enthusiasm, and more and more members of the troupe were taking an interest in him, as he quickly began to impress them. In a matter of weeks, Remy had progressed in his acrobatics training to a level that would have been expected after a year of training. He picked up the combat and dancing skills just as rapidly, though in everything else, his progression seemed normal… he was frustrated in his reading and writing lessons, unable to hold still. 

Soon, he was surpassing the skill levels of the other children his age. Olivier took up training Remy one on one in acrobatics, and Andre did the same in dancing. For a couple of weeks, the troupe was joined by a Spaniard and his family, who were returning to Andalusia in the south of Spain. 

Jean Luc explained to Remy that travelers would often join the troupe, as there was safety in numbers on the road, and that the gypsies loved to learn new things from these travelers. And the next thing he knew, the Spaniard was seen teaching Remy to dance, and later approached Jean Luc to express how amazed he was at how swiftly Remy picked up on it. Though his wife and children seemed wary of Remy’s eyes, Joaquin Castaneda adored Remy and spent the time he was with the troupe teaching the boy Flamenco. And when they eventually parted ways, Remy started to teach some of the other children. 

One evening, while camped at a village that was their last stop before the final stretch to their winter camp, the children were dancing around a bonfire, showing each other moves that they had learned from various travelers over the years, sometimes with a few adults stepping in to correct moves, or even impart some of their own moves to the children. Jean Luc was relaxed, watching the children dance and play, his own adopted son amongst them. One of the men emerged from the crowd of adults watching the children, and approached.

“Jean Luc?”

“Oui, Andre?”

“Been t’inkin’, me…”

“… ‘bout?”

“Remy.”

“Oh?”

“… He’s good, Jean Luc. At everyt’ing… Dancin’, climbin’, runnin’, tumblin’… All of it.”

“Oui.”

“… He be TOO good.”

Jean Luc was silent, waiting for Andre to elaborate.

“His eyes… he ain’t a Devil Child… Anyone can see dat, once dey get t’ know de boy. But he… Jean Luc, he gotta be one o’ dem… mutants!”

“Oui… I figured dat de moment I saw his eyes.”

“T’ink he be good ‘cause he a mutant?”

“Could be.” Jean Luc nodded.

“Ain’t just dat he be good… Jean Luc, I ain’t NEVER seen dat boy tired! Sleepy, oui, but tired?! He work harder dan all de ot’er kids, an’ when dey all ready t’ fall over, he still be fresh as in de start! Ain’t neve’ seen de likes of it! He jus’… brimmin’ wit’ energy dat neve’ leaves!”

“Pfft!” Jean Luc made a face, shaking his head and giving Andre a harassed look. “Y’ t’ink I ain’t noticed dat, mec?” He asked, looking very put out. “I be de one dat gotta get dat boy’s hyper ass in bed every night!” Andre blinked at his Rom Baro, then threw his head back and roared with laughter at the suffered look on Jean Luc’s face. Several other gypsies turned at the commotion and chuckles went around at the look on Jean Luc’s face, and Andre’s great amusement.

“Look…” Jean Luc sighed as Andre finally began to calm. “I agree. T’ain’t normal… but also, de mutants ‘sposed t’ get deir powers in puberty… dis may jus’ be de beginnin’…”

“Dat boy goin t’rough puberty is gon’ be DAMN in’erestin’…”

“Sans blague…” Jean Luc sighed, watching Remy dancing around the bonfire with the other children. “Jus’ hope I be ready…” Andre let out a snort at that, shaking his head.

“If dis be jus’ de beginnin’, ain’t NONE of us ready…” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day they arrived at the winter campgrounds was cold and nippy. Remy was huddled in a blanket on the driving seat of the wagon, the reins in his hands as his Papa and Tante Mattie lovingly taught him how to drive the wagon and handle the horses, now that he had mastered getting them all hitched up. They crested a hill, and were looking down upon a small village.

“An’ here we are.” Jean Luc said with a smile, looking down at Remy. “Home. Not everyone in de clan travels wit’ us. De elderly stay here. Some have physical restrictions dat prevent dem from travelin’… An some prefer t’ stay in one place.” He nudged Remy with his elbow. “Not every gypsy got de Wanderlust. Dey stay here, in de village, an’ we stay wit’ dem in de season when de snow don’t allow us t’travel. Dere be more children dere… an’ more people dat can teach y’ t’ings.”

Remy smiled up at him, looking a bit nervous.

“Go on.” Jean Luc said, gesturing down the hill, and Remy got the two horse team moving again, the two large Gypsy Vanners snorting. The one on the left, Jean Luc’s dappled bay stallion, tossed his head and neighed, recognizing where they were and decided to pick up the pace, nipping his partner to get him to move faster, too. Jean Luc chuckled at the pair as they moved into a trot, and then a canter. Remy looked startled.

“Dey be happy t’ be home. Dey in fo’ a vacation now, oui?” He told his son, and Remy smiled a bit.

As they drew nearer to the village, people came pouring out, calling out happy welcomes to the troupe as they pulled their wagons in. They drew them up to one side of the village in a half circle, framing it, and then locked the wheels and unhitched the horses, who were taken to a large stable and paddock, where they would winter. The children were sent to clean out a large pit in the center of the half circle, and then sent into the woods to gather wood to put together the bonfire. Remy was the exception.

He helped Jean Luc unhitch the horses and take them to the stable.

“When de mares foal…” Jean Luc said with a smile, “you’ll get one o’ your own. De foal will be YOUR responsibility. YOU will take care o’ him. Feed ‘im, water ‘im, groom ‘im… train ‘im. I’ll help.”

“A horse, papa?” Remy gasped, looking shocked.

“Oui.” Jean Luc nodded. He showed Remy how to put up the horses and give them a good rub down, showed him where the feed was and how much to give, and then they returned to the wagon, to prepare it for winter. The travelling gypsies did not have houses in the village; they lived in their wagons all year round. 

“Alrigh’, Remy,” Jean Luc said. “Set up de fire…” And he plopped down on the steps of the wagon and watched Remy perform the task he had been teaching him. Remy carefully dug a shallow pit, then lined and circled it with stones, before setting up the frame over it where they could hang a kettle, or turn a spit to prepare food. Then he scampered off into the woods, returning about fifteen minutes later with enough wood and kindling to start a fire. Jean Luc grinned and slapped him on the back with a word of praise for a job well done, and then set about teaching his son how to winterize their wagon.

It was late afternoon when a man approached, and Jean Luc looked up from where he was showing Remy how to check and patch the wagon roof for leaks; he already had a red and bruising thumb from Remy’s less than well aimed strike with a hammer…

“Jean Luc! De elders be ready.” The man called.

“Comin’,” Jean Luc waved, and he and Remy climbed down. “Time t’ meet de elders, mon fils.” The Rom Baro said, taking Remy’s hand and smiling at the nervous look that immediately overcame the boy’s face. “Dey ain’t gonna hurt you, Remy.” He assured him, leading him through the campground and towards the village. “Jus’ need t’ make yo’ adoption official in de Clan…”

They made their way through the little village, happy greetings being called out to Jean Luc and curious looks being focused on Remy; the news that the Rom Baro had adopted a child with demon eyes had already spread like wildfire.

They came to a large wooden structure. Jean Luc didn’t bother to knock, he just strode right in, head held high and carrying himself with an air of authority. The Rom Baro was the Rom Baro, whether on the road, or in the Winter Grounds.

There were many people gathered, both men and women, and of all ages. They all grew quiet and turned, respectfully greeting Jean Luc LeBeau and moving aside to let him through to stand before a long table, where a half dozen elderly men and women sat. Remy smiled slightly when Tante Mattie moved through the crowd and sat down at the end of the table, making the number seven. There was an eighth chair, that remained empty.

“Welcome home, Jean Luc!” Boomed a large man with a long, thick gray beard. Remy stared at him, almost in fright. The man was very tall, very thick, and had a rotund belly. He had long grizzled hair and wild bushy eyebrows that shadowed glittery black eyes that were fixed on HIM…

Remy gulped, his own eyes going wide, and he shuffled closer to Jean Luc and tried to tuck himself behind the man. Titters ran through the crowd.

“Bonjour, Gerard… T’ought I told y’ t’ stay outta de mead while I was gone…” And he looked pointedly at the man’s belly. Said belly shook when the man let out a thundering laugh that came from his gut.

“An’ I t’ought I told y’ t’ get laid while on de road!” Gerard shot back, and the room filled with laughter at the banter between the two. “Den y’ go an’ return wit’ a child! T’ink y’ may have missed dat crucial step in between, mon ami…” More laughter. Jean Luc was smirking. Finally, Gerard swept a hand out, dismissing the conversation with a loud “Aaach! Let’s see de boy! Come on now, petit, we don’t bite!”

Jean Luc chuckled and tugged Remy out from behind him, leading him closer to the table. “Say hello, mon fils.” He said gently. Remy looked petrified, and instead clung to Jean Luc’s leg and hid his face in the man’s side. Several men laughed, and the women cooed.

“Remy…” Mattie called. “I know Gerard be big an’ loud an’ dat can be scary… but he not’in’ but a buffoon, y’ hear me?”

“Buffoon?!” Gerard howled in protest. “Woman, you be—“

“Y’ scarin’ de boy, Gerard, shut y’ howlin’ screamer!” Scolded an old woman beside Gerard, whacking him on the head with her cane. The man grumbled, rubbing his head and giving her a fierce glare, but went silent. The room was quiet, and all eyes were on Remy.

Jean Luc knelt, looking up into the boy’s face and smoothing back his hair. “S’alrigh, mon fils… not’in’ t’ be afraid of… dese folk be yo’ family now…”

Trembling, Remy flung his arms around the man’s shoulders. Jean Luc held back a sigh and just stood, holding the child in his arms, allowing him to hide his face in his neck and wrap his legs around his waist.

“Dis is Remy LeBeau.” He announced finally, fumbling one handed in his satchel, and laying out the papers he had taken from the church. The old woman who had shushed Gerard took them and unrolled them peering down through squinted eyes, trying to see.

“Remy.” The woman read. “No las’ name. Nine years old, turnin’ ten in a few weeks…” Then she made a sound of outrage, and the others at the table peered down at her, curiously. Sputtering, she managed to get out, “Mother, Vivienne de Jezebel Whore, an’ father, Lucifer de Morning Star!!!” She slammed the papers down on the table. “De Devil?! Dey actually believed dis child’s father be de Devil?!”

“When we left,” Mattie snarled, “de priests came to see us. To take de boy back an’ burn ‘im!”

The entire room exploded and Remy jumped, tightening his hold on Jean Luc and trembling violently at the anger and fury that he could actually FEEL!

“Remy?” Came the smooth voice in his ear. “Papa gon’ get loud fo’ a minute…” And with that little warning, and the nod of response, Jean Luc bellowed “SILENCE!!!”

The response was immediate.

“Merci.” The Rom Baro nodded, bowing his head to look at Remy and stroke his hair. “De boy be scared ‘nough as it is, wit’out bein’ in de middle of a riot. Now… De boy tried t’ pick my pocket…” He had to stop as laughter rang through the crowd at that, but settled quickly. “Obviously, a child ain’t got de skills t’ pick de pocket of a Master Pick Pocket!” Remy’s head snapped up then, and he stared at Jean Luc. The man was grinning. 

“Oui, mon fils… Be a Master Pick Pocket, me. Be a Master T’ief. We ain’t jus’ gypsies, Remy. We be only one of many factions in de T’ieves’ Guild!” And the gypsies cheered loudly. “Most o’ de factions be in de large cities… Paris, London, Florence, Venice, Rome, Madrid, Barcelona, Vienna, Prague…” He trailed off. “An’ many more…” He turned to the room at large again.

“De guards came t’ take ‘im… he was gon’ be hanged at dawn. But I saw ‘is eyes…” He smiled at Remy again, smoothing his hair back and staring at those eyes. “An’ I knew, dis boy had t’ have been t’rough hell. An’ I couldn’t leave ‘im.” He leaned in and kissed Remy’s forehead. “Now… he be my son.”

“Dey let y’ have ‘im?” The old woman asked.

“Lord Nikolas said he didn’t care, long as he didn’t see de boy again… was de priests dat fussed, but not dat much. An’ I don’t give a damn what dey say. De boy ain’t a devil… he a mutant. I be sure of it.”

“… Mutant?” All eyes turned at the soft questioning echo. Jean Luc looked down at Remy.

“Oui, mon fils…” He nodded. “Dere be people out dere, who be different. Very different…”

“… Like Tante Mattie?” Remy asked, innocently. Chuckles went around the room.

“Non, petit…” Mattie laughed. “I be different here, but I come from a land far, far away. An’ dere, everyone got dark skin like me.” Remy looked amazed at this. Jean Luc moved to the empty chair at the table and sat down, setting Remy on his knee.

“Mutants… dey be human, but… dey can do t’ings humans can’t. An’ sometimes, dey look different. We know a travellin’ circus… a Germanic tribe o’ gypsies. Dey had a youngster wit’ dem dat dey called Nightcrawler. An’ de boy was covered in dark blue fur. He had a long tail an’ big yellow eyes.” Remy’s eyes widened. “Now, folk t’ought he was a demon… but he was jus’ a mutant. Gypsies… we travel. We see t’ings dat most people could neve’ imagine! So when we see t’ings like dat, we ain’t as scared… People who spend deir whole lives in a little village? Dey don’t know de t’ings we know. Haven’t seen de t’ings we’ve seen. So when dey see somet’in’ strange… like dat Nightcrawler… like you… dey be afraid. An’ if dey be afraid of somet’in’, dey t’ink dat t’ing mus’ be bad… an’ dat be why dey said you de child o’ de Devil. B’cause dey were afraid o’ your eyes. An’ dey ain’t never heard of mutants, so dey couldn’t know what y’ were… All dey know is dat you be different. Dey didn’t know better… but dat don’t make dem right…”

Remy stared up at his papa, amazed.

“So… Remy isn’t… evil? Ain’t… de devil’s—“

“Absolutely not.” Jean Luc said, firmly. “Y’ be a mutant, mon fils. An’ when y’ get older… start goin’ t’rough puberty—“

“T’rough what?” Remy asked.

“Changin’ from a boy to a man.” Jean Luc summed up. “When y’ start goin’ t’rough dat change… ot’er t’ings gonna happen. Dat be when mutants get deir powers.”

“Powers?”

“Oui.”

“… What kind o’ powers?”

“Don’t know.” Jean Luc told him. “Every mutant be different. Could be anyt’ing…”

“I met one.” Gerard boomed, and Remy jumped, startled. “Could twist an’ bend an’ shape metal… jus’ wit’ a t’ought!”

“I knew one dat could make de ground shake!” Called someone from the crowd. 

“I met a man wit’ sharp teeth an’ claws, instead o’ fingernails...” Called someone else. “Could track a man by scent, like a dog! An’ if he be wounded, de wounds heal in seconds, righ’ befo’ y’ eyes!”

“I seen a woman who could change an’ look like ANY one!!!”

“I saw one like a frog! Long sticky tongue, an’ hoppin’ an’ everyt’ing!”

“So y’ see?” Jean Luc said with a smile. “Dey be everywhere. An’ dey all be different. An’ you be one o’ dem. We jus’ gotta wait an’ see what comes. But fo’ now… We gotta get y’ all trained up an’ ready fo’ next travel season!”

And that night, the entire Clan gathered around the bonfire, and Remy was hoisted high into the air by Gerard so that everyone could see him, and then Gerard bellowed out that he was Remy LeBeau, son of Jean Luc LeBeau, brother of Henri LeBeau… and he was one of them.

And the crowd cheered.


	5. Chapter 5

When the first snow rolled in, Remy found himself with the other children, shoveling snow and clearing it out of the main camp ground, and then helping to dig a path to the stable. That day, he took part in his first snowball fight. The village children had taken to him just as well as the others, and for the first time, Remy had friends. 

He still had his lessons… Monday and Friday he had his combat training with his papa and big brother, and now with a few others… one of the older men in the village was an expert with the throwing knives… he had to stop travelling after a horrible broken leg that he never fully recovered from. But now Remy had lessons with him, as Jean Luc had seen much potential, and preferred Remy learn from a true Master. 

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Remy continued his fast track acrobatics training with Olivier, and then Wednesdays and Saturdays, dancing with Andre; Wednesdays were the lessons, and Saturday was just when everyone gathered around the bonfire at dusk to socialize, and this always led to dancing and singing in some way or another. 

All of these lessons took place in the mornings. After lunch, there were now new lessons… the children learned with the older masters who no longer travelled how to pick locks… They learned sleight of hand tricks, and other things to trick a mark... they learned horsemanship, and how to care for and maintain the wagons. They learned how to make and maintain their clothes and costumes. And a few days a week, Remy still had his reading and writing lessons, and sometimes, at night when everyone sat around the bonfire, Remy would sit beside his Tante Mattie, and she would show him the Tarot.

It was early December when Jean Luc came and interrupted Remy’s reading lessons with his Tante Mattie, and announced that they would be sleeping in the stable that night. Mattie just chuckled, and helped Remy get a bedroll together and then sent him off with a kiss on his cheek.

“Why we sleepin’ in de stable, papa?” Remy asked, trotting beside the man.

“One of de mares is down.” He said. “Strange. De horses usually foal in de spring. But she’s foalin’ now. Happens from time t’ time… We gon’ stay dere t’ keep an eye on her.” Henri was at the stable, waiting for them.

“Hey, Remy!” He called, and Remy leapt into his big brother’s arms, grinning and laughing as he was tossed over the young man’s shoulder. Jean Luc chuckled at his boys as he pushed open the door to the stable, let Remy and Henri in, and then shut the door and latched it, keeping out the frigid wind. The stable was surprisingly warm, and a few other men were there, gathered around a fire in the middle of the place. They smiled and greeted the LeBeau Boys, offering them hot stew.

“In a few minutes, merci,” Jean Luc said, and once Henri had put him down, he guided Remy over to a stall nearby. He pushed open the door and they stepped in. “Dis is Minuit…” He said, moving over to the black mare, who raised her head and nickered, nosing over his hands as he reached out. Remy approached, cautiously. “We gon’ help her have her baby.” Jean Luc said, and Remy smiled slightly, reaching out to the horse and stroking her velvety nose.

“Who is de papa?” Remy asked. Jean Luc took his hand and led him all the way down to the far end of the large stable. He lifted Remy up and sat him on the edge of a stall. Inside, was a red roan stallion with cream colored mane, tail and feathering. He was pacing in circles around his stall, picking up his oat bucket in his teeth and tossing it around in the hay. Remy smiled at the horse’s antics.

“Dis be Roi.” Jean Luc said, and the horse eagerly made his way over, looking for a treat. Remy shrieked with laughter when he found himself with a horse’s head in his lap, and then a soft muzzle brushing over his face, before letting out a massive snort, blowing his hair back. He toppled backwards, and laughing, Henri caught him and set him on the floor. 

“Careful, Remy.”

Jean Luc continued, “He got a good temperament. Dey bot’ do. Hopin’ t’ get dat in de foal.” And he slipped Remy an apple to give to the eager stallion.

Then they settled around the fire with the other men, enjoyed a hot and hearty stew, and the men told the little boy all about how to midwife for a mare, and told stories of the first times they had helped their own fathers birth a foal. All the while, the mare was up and down, pacing, and making frustrated noises as her labor progressed.

The stories carried long into the night, but eventually, little Remy dozed off, leaning against Jean Luc, who just smiled and put his arm around the child…

But it was just past midnight when Remy was shaken awake and blinked around at all the activity.

“It’s time.” Jean Luc said, and Remy immediately followed his papa into the stall, where the other men made way. An amber colored fluid was flowing as the mare strained to birth her foal, her sides rising and falling with her deep breaths. Jean Luc guided Remy to kneel beside him, and away from sharp hooves when the mare kicked out, squealing. One of the other men had gathered up her tail into a knot to keep it as clean and clear from the birth as possible. He showed Remy how he had done this and explained why, before ruffling the boy’s hair and moving away. The men hung back, allowing this to be for Jean Luc to teach his son.

Bit by bit, the clear white amniotic sac appeared, and then, the front hooves. 

“Oh, dis be a big one!” One of the man announced, pleased, and the men began to place final bets on the gender. 

Slowly, the foal emerged, Jean Luc talking Remy through what to do, with constant encouragement from Henri. Remy made a face, but he ripped open the milky colored sac that was covering the foal, freeing it’s face. And in the final moments, he grasped the foal’s forelegs and pulled, and finally, the foal was free, thrashing and kicking as it tried to right itself. Jean Luc just watched, smiling, as Remy stripped the foal of the amniotic sac and accepted a blanket from Henri, beginning to wipe him clean as the mare lay resting.

“Get it breathin’, Remy.” Jean Luc called, and Remy wiped out the foals nostrils, grunting in his effort as he rolled the foal onto his chest and guided his head out straight, to rest his chin on the ground, fluid trickling out.

“Tickle de nose wit’ some hay. Make it sneeze!” One of the other man called, and Remy did so, as Jean Luc knelt and gave the foal a couple of sound thumps to the ribs. The foal jerked and let out a large snort, before sucking in a wet breath.

“Good job, Remy!” Cheered one of the men watching, earning a little grin from the child.

“Watch out, now!” Henri warned, pulling Remy back a bit when the mare suddenly struggled to her feet, turning to inspect the foal. The umbilical cord broke, and Jean Luc showed Remy how to tie it off close to the foal’s belly and then cut away the excess. And then he announced, “A colt!”

And the men cheered and began to swap coin. Then the mare was nuzzling her shaky foal and began to clean him, and all the men stepped back and watched, while Jean Luc and Remy washed off in a bucket.

Smiling, Jean Luc glanced up at Remy.

“Y’ gon’ hafta come out here every day now… rain, snow o’ shine…”

“Every day? Pourquoi?” Remy asked. Jean Luc smirked. 

“Dat horse be yours. YOU gotta take care o’ him.”

“Mine?!”

“Oui,” Jean Luc nodded, grinning now.

“… Merci, papa!” Remy cried, leaping into the man’s arms and hugging him tightly, and then, surprising Jean Luc, kissing his cheek. “Merci beaucoup!” And then he turned and hurried over, approaching carefully. Smiling, Jean Luc watched the little boy slowly sink to his knees in the hay and reach out, gently hugging the birth-damp head of the little foal to his chest, giggling when the mare snuffled over his hair. He watched Remy gently finish cleaning the foal with attentive hands, talking to him quietly the whole time, and help the little fellow to his feet to nurse from his mother. 

And in the morning, Jean Luc awoke to soft chuckles and murmurs. Henri and the other men were already up, and were standing in a line, grinning into the stall. Jean Luc moved to join them, and felt his own grin splitting his face.

The mare stood dozing, her head hanging with her nose brushing her newborn’s shoulder. The little colt was curled up in the soft hay under a blanket and cuddled up to Remy’s chest. The child was fast asleep, his arm draped over the colt’s long, slender neck.

“How long y’ t’ink it’ll take b’fore he start sleepin’ in de wagon again?” One of the men murmured to Jean Luc.

“As long as he don’t try t’ bring de foal into de wagon wit’ ‘im, I don’t care.” Jean Luc snorted, and the others chuckled.

Once dry, and in the morning light, though obscured by a thick fog, the foal had appeared to be a fuzzy little bay, which Remy happily declared “Like yours, papa!” 

Laughing, Jean Luc had told him “Now, don’t get y’ heart set on dat, mon fils. When he lose his baby fur, he prolly gonna be a different color.”

“Oh.” Remy had said, cocking his head and then simply shrugging his acceptance. And then he named the little colt Brouillard, meaning fog, or mist, through which the colt was now following his mother through.

It took nearly a week before Remy started sleeping in the wagon again, and to the utter amusement of many, he did try to talk Jean Luc into letting him bring Brouillard in with him…

“Remy!” Jean Luc blurted out incredulously, trying to ignore the gypsies around them laughing it up at his expense, “How y’ plan t’ get de foal on y’ bunk?! An’ how he s’posed t’ nurse if he be in de wagon an’ his dam be in de stable?!”

Remy drooped, but accepted these arguments… and Jean Luc was awoken in the middle of the night by Remy slipping out of the wagon and into the snow, and found him curled up with Brouillard and his mother in the stable in the morning. It was another few days before Remy started spending the full night in the wagon again.

Over the next few weeks, lessons were winding down as the snow began to pile up. Sparring, dancing and acrobatics were very difficult to do outdoors, so lessons moved inside. But despite the snow, Remy was diligent in his duties, and visited the stable several times a day. 

When Brouillard was one month old, he was all fluff with stocky legs. His thick winter baby fur made him a comical sight indeed, made even more adorable by how he followed Remy around just as much as he followed his mother. Many of the gypsies got a good laugh as they watched the foal and the child frolicking in the snow, the little colt leaping and bounding through the drifts, kicking up his heels and tossing his head as a laughing Remy chased him around, all under the dam’s watchful eye.

Christmas Eve, the children were put to the task of clearing the circle of snow, and little Brouillard trotted around after Remy all afternoon as he helped. And that night, the gypsies gathered around the bonfire to celebrate together, and one of the topics of conversation was Remy, sat between Jean Luc and Tante Mattie, with little Brouillard’s head in his lap, the foal snoozing away.

January was cold and bitter. And for the first time, the howling wind and the raging snow prevented Remy from going to the stable to see his new friend. When Jean Luc insisted that Remy stay safely ensconced in the wagon for the day, Remy cried, upset at the thought of his little colt waiting for him to come, only to be disappointed. Smiling, Jean Luc hugged him, kissed his forehead and assured him that Brouillard would forgive him, and would be much more disappointed if his human friend went out into the blizzard, got lost and froze to death.

It was several days before the weather calmed, and Jean Luc was amused by, and admiring of, Remy’s diligence in shoveling his way through the mounds of snow, making a path out to the stable.

Now that many other lessons had been suspended, Remy began going with the other children to the School of the Seven Bells. Remy had been confused, and so, while taking Remy to his first, lesson, Jean Luc explained it to him. “It be t’ teach y’ to pick pockets.”

“But… I already know dat!” Remy had protested.

“An’ it got y’ caught, mon fils.” Jean Luc pointed out, and Remy blushed and pouted, making the man chuckle. “Fo’ once, gettin’ caught was a good t’ing, Remy. Brought us t’gether, oui?”

“Mais oui, Papa.” Remy nodded, beaming up at the man, showing a bit of cheek that had started to appear in the child recently.

“Well, now we wanna make sure y’ don’t eve’ get caught again. Dere be a test y’ gotta pass… dere be seven pockets, an’ each one got a bell on it. Y’ gotta be able t’ pick every pocket wit’out ringin’ a single bell.”

“Quoi?!” Remy blurted as they stepped into the little house. “Dat even possible?!” 

Jean Luc laughed and turned. “Etienne!” The eight year old jumped to attention. “Let’s see it!” The boy grinned and nodded, turning and making his way towards a dummy that was hanging from the rafters by a rope. A few adults stepped back smiling, and Etienne began to walk around the room. Every time he passed the dummy, his hand flashed into a pocket and fished out what was inside. All in total silence. Remy watched in amazement.

“Gotta do dat successfully every day fo’ a mont’, an’ den y’ gotta pick de pocket of a Master, b’fore we let y’ do it fo’ real.” Jean Luc said. “Well done, Etienne!” The little blonde smiled and nodded, handing over the contents of all seven pockets to be put back.

“Alright, Remy.” Called one of the teachers. “Show us what ya got!”

And true to form, Remy flashed a devilish smile that was becoming more common on his face, did just that.

Surprising everyone, Remy was already beginning his month long daily test by mid February, and mid March, he had not only passed it, but had also picked the pockets of nearly a dozen Masters. Jean Luc had found himself Remy’s unwitting mark a good half dozen times, and always out and about, whether it be during a little party, around the bonfire, or at work with the other gypsies. 

“If you be DAT good,” Jean Luc cried, lunging and tackling Remy, when the child tried to make a run for it with his purse, “den why de hell did y’ get caught in de firs’ place?!”

Remy shrieked with laughter as the man wrestled him to the snow, fingers dancing over his ribs as the gypsies around them chortled at the antics of the Rom Baro and his mischievous child.

“I was hungry an’ dizzy!” Remy managed to get out.

This statement made Jean Luc pause, and sadness flashed in his eyes. But he had no intention of letting Remy think that he had upset his papa. And so, keeping it light, Jean Luc crowed “HAH! A likely excuse, mon petite diable!” And he let Remy go and tugged him to his feet, holding out his hand and giving the boy a chiding look. Grinning, Remy put Jean Luc’s purse into his hand, then took off running, giggling. Jean Luc paused, and then he bounced his purse in his hand, his smile disappearing. “HEY!” He howled, shoving his empty purse into his belt.

The other gypsies laughed again.

“Y’ ain’t gonna go afte’ de boy?” Gerard asked.

“Non…” Jean Luc sighed, turning and heading in his original direction, passing Gerard. “De boy gotta come home SOME time… An’ b’sides…” He tossed up a rather full purse, and caught it. “Why chase de boy down fo’ what I can take off YOU?!”

“Quoi?” Gerard blurted, and reached for his belt, to find his purse gone. “HEY!”

And with a laugh not unlike Remy’s, Jean Luc broke into a sprint and disappeared around the corner, leaving the other gypsies howling in laughter as Gerard charged after him, bellowing like a bull.

March found Remy laid up for nearly two weeks with a nasty cold, with Henri, Mattie and Jean Luc dotingly nursing him back to health, and the next week or so was spent trying to get outside as much as he could, with an overprotective Jean Luc trying to keep him inside, for fear that the frigid cold in Remy’s lungs would cause a relapse. But the boy never relapsed and was back to himself in no time, and in fact, seemed to have developed a mischievous streak…

Practical jokes were being played, and Henri was often an eager partner in crime… more than once, Jean Luc had stepped out of the wagon only to see a snow ball come flying and hit a mound of snow on the edge of the roof of the wagon… which would then come crashing down on him…

Once, Remy had gotten a bucket of hot water and poured it on the ground not far from the wagon. It, of course, froze, and Jean Luc slipped on it more than once.

At one point, Jean Luc went to get his purse to pay the smith for sharpening his sword, only to find that his coin had been replaced with several pebbles and chips of ice.

And before he knew it, the new father came to realize that it was time to put some sort of discipline into Remy’s life… 

Not that the child was badly behaved… he was a very good child! But he knew that at some point, Remy would start to test boundaries, and it was best to start setting them sooner, rather than later when it would harder on them both. One of the first things he did was to set Remy a curfew, after the boy came home at the most appalling hour, because some of the older boys had talked him into hunting with them… why the hell they were hunting at night, Jean Luc had no idea, and would be speaking to THEIR parents, but he laid that rule down with Remy in a very firm manner. 

He and Mattie also stepped in and set the expectation that if Remy didn’t do his chores, he could not play with the other children. And if he didn’t focus on his reading and writing, he would not be allowed to play with the children, or go to his riding lessons at the stable.

Remy had taken to these rules surprisingly well. He would simply mull them over in his mind for a bit, and then calmly accept them. The one thing that several parents in the village tended to do that Jean Luc did not, was to send their children to bed without their supper, if they had misbehaved or disobeyed. Jean Luc was unable to bring himself to do this… He would look into the beautiful face of his child, and his mind would flash back to the gaunt, starving waif that the boy had been when he first brought him home… The boy hadn’t suffered an empty tummy since then, and Jean Luc had horrible feelings about even thinking of putting the child through it again, even if it were just one meal… Remy was finally at a good weight, and Jean Luc was also concerned about possible psychological damage that would do to Remy. He knew he was probably overreacting, and at some point, he knew that Remy would go without a meal here or there, and he wouldn’t suffer for it, but the man’s heart couldn’t bear to do it to the boy himself.

One late night found Jean Luc standing by the bunks, his empty bunk on the bottom, Remy’s above, and the Rom Baro stood there and stared at the child sleeping peacefully. Jean Luc realized that he was head over heels in love with the beautiful child, and he renewed his vows in a whisper to the slumbering boy, that he would love him and protect him for the rest of his life.

As March rolled out, so did the winter, making way for the thaw… The snow was disappearing day by day, and excitement filled the gypsies when the first signs of Spring began to emerge. Soon, preparations began for the troupe to head out on the road once more…

Jean Luc was spending a lot of his time in meetings, but he and Henri both always made sure to fit in Remy’s combat lessons, now that they were able to spend time outside again. Remy was spending a lot of his own time at the stable with Brouillard, who was being conditioned to accept the presence of a light halter on his little head. He would wait at the fence of the paddock for Remy in the mornings, his ears perking up and his little tail flicking excitedly. Upon catching sight, or scent of Remy, the colt would being to prance in excitement. His dam, Minuit, appreciated Remy’s visits as well… he often brought her a treat. Brouillard was all legs now, and many of the gypsies at the stables were all too happy to point out, so was Remy…

And as March came to a close, it was finally time. The morning was cold and misty, but the golden sun was rising and starting to burn the mist away when the horses were hitched up to the wagons, Minuit and Brouillard tethered to the back of Jean Luc’s, and the gypsies headed out for another season of travel.

Remy and the other children perched on the roofs of the wagons and waved goodbye the village, and to the children that remained behind, promising to bring them back stories and baubles from their travels when they returned in the winter. And they were on the road again, and heading for lands that one little red eyed boy had never even imagined…


	6. Chapter 6

They gypsies were delighted to be back on the road again. For the first several days of travel there was constant singing along the line of the caravan, laughter, and children playing. Jean Luc allowed Remy to ride his own horse, Voleur, along side the caravan with Henri and some of the other children, as Jean Luc’s dappled bay stallion had not only grown familiar with Remy, but was fond of the child and was very gentle with the young rider, who was still learning to handle him. 

Remy would often circle around to encourage little Brouillard, and a couple of times, Henri helped get the foal up and slung over Voleur’s back in front of Remy, when the little foal grew too tired. There were a two other foals with them, who would also be carried as such, both younger than Brouillard. One was a little piebald filly, and the other a striking black colt with a white blaze and stockings. Brouillard’s dam, Minuit, didn’t seem to mind the travel, and definitely enjoyed the attentions of the little red eyed boy when he saw to her care at the end of the day, rubbing her down with Brouillard while Jean Luc took care of his stallion and the two horses that pulled his wagon.

“Is Minuit yours, papa?” Remy asked one evening. 

“Non, mon fils.” Jean Luc said with a smile. “She belong t’ Gerard. He sold me Brouillard an’ allowed us t’ take Minuit along wit’ us dis year, t’ care fo’ her foal.”

“Oh…” Remy breathed, thinking that he must thank the large gypsy man when they returned in the winter. And then, completely changing the subject, he blurted “Can Remy come into de towns now?”

Jean Luc blinked, taken aback at the unexpected question.

“Well…” He said slowly, seeing several of the other nosy Romani listening in, “we’ll see. Don’t know how people gon’ take t’ your eyes…” It was something that they had accepted, and as such, neither Remy, nor Jean Luc shied away from the topic.

“Wanna help, me.” Remy told the man. “Remy pull his own weight!”

“An’ y’ will, Remy.” Jean Luc assured the ten year old, ruffling his hair. “But ain’t gon’ have y’ doin’ de work y’ ain’t ready t’ do. Y’ gon’ have y’ chores like de ot’ers…”

“But Remy passed de test! Can pick pockets!”

“In de larger towns, Remy.” Jean Luc explained. “In de smaller ones, dere ain’t many t’ieves, and our t’ievin’ will be noticed, an’ dat puts de whole clan in danger…” Remy nodded his understanding. “In de bigger places, we see, non?”

“Alrigh’, Papa…” Remy sighed, standing and walking away, tossing Jean Luc’s purse back over his shoulder. Startled, Jean Luc fumbled to catch it, and then shot a glare at Remy’s retreating back, before transferring it onto the laughing gypsies.

Mattie gave him a sly look and drawled “Y’d t’ink y’d learn t’ keep a bette’ eye on it when Remy be ‘round, homme.”

“One would t’ink…” Jean Luc said icily, leveling a look on the woman, who just laughed back at him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first stop on their trip was a small village, who was very excited to see them. They were preparing for their Spring Festival, and Remy was surprised and delighted when the gypsy children dragged him along to play with the village children, and then stood up for him when the village children expressed trepidation upon seeing Remy’s eyes. Jean Luc was beyond pleased when he saw Remy in the thick of things as the children raced around, wildly staging a mock battle.

And the night of the festival, Jean Luc moved to his place at the table with the village elders, with Remy by his side, holding his hand. Some of the elders had heard of the child’s eyes, the others looked alarmed. But Jean Luc calmly set Remy beside him and introduced him as his adopted son. And Remy, bless him, had smiled widely, started talking, and charmed the elders in no time at all. He had been so quiet when Jean Luc first took him in, but over the winter Remy had developed into quite the little chatterbox, and was easily able to bring laughter from the people around him. He was such a precocious child, it brought incredible joy to Jean Luc to see.

And that night, around a bonfire, Remy stole the show when the children began to dance. He didn’t think it possible, but day by day, Remy was becoming more and more bright, happy and outgoing. He had completely transformed in the six months that he had been with the Romani.

“I wouldn’t even recognize de boy,” Mattie said one evening, “had I not seen dis transformation m’self…” The other gypsies agreed, laughing as they watched Remy up a tree, swinging upside down by his knees from a tree branch, dangling sweets over the heads of the smaller children, who were eagerly jumping up and down, trying to snatch them from his fingers.

“Y’ done a good job wit’ de boy, Jean Luc.” One of the elder men said, clapping the Rom Baro on the back.

“I dunno…” The older man’s wife cackled. “Dat Remy may be mo’ dan any of us can handle!” And everyone turned and watched as Remy dropped out of the tree, doing a full flip and then landing on his feet running, the other children chasing after him, laughing as Remy gleefully executed several back handsprings before rolling under a wagon and darting out the other side, climbing onto the next and doing a front flip through the air and onto the roof of the next wagon over.

“REMY!!! You gon’ break yo’ neck!!!” Jean Luc bellowed.

“No point in livin’ a life,” Remy called back, “iffn y’ be too cautious t’ LIVE!!!” And he executed a backflip with a full double twist off of the wagon, tumbled forward in a roll and then came up to his feet and disappeared into the darkness, his laughter carrying back to the other gypsies as the rest of the children followed him, tumbling, cartwheeling and flipping playfully.

“… Alrigh’…” Jean Luc growled, slowly turning back and glaring at the others. “Who de hell been teachin’ dat boy Philosophy?!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Romani travelled a road that ran along the foothills of the Alps, through northern Italy. Remy eagerly studied the language with his papa and a few others, finding that he quite enjoyed Italian. He also got his first history lessons, and was enthralled with the stories of the old Roman Empire, and the emperors that had ruled it, and the strange gods they had worshipped. On rainy nights, Jean Luc would regale the boy with countless myths of the old gods before bed time, while teaching him to play cards.

On nights when the spring showers turned to storms, Jean Luc would be woken by the boy wriggling into his arms, frightened by the thunder. And rather than patiently putting him back into his own bed, Jean Luc allowed the boy to cuddle close; after all, he had never before had someone to soothe his fears before. Jean Luc would offer him loving reassurance, and would ease him back into sleep while stroking his hair.

It was mid spring when they left Italy and began to turn north… And that was when Remy had one of the most incredible days of his young life… he met another mutant for the first time.

As part of his training, Jean Luc had been teaching Remy the art of stealth, in addition to lock picking. There was a very wealthy villa, and the aristocrat who lived there was in Rome.

Remy had been challenged to enter the villa unseen, and bring back some kind of bauble. Getting in had been simple. The guards were fat and lazy, and seemed to be enjoying their employer’s wine in his absence. That, Remy thought, would be a fine prize for his papa, who enjoyed fine wines. And so, Remy made his way to the cellar. But as he perused the selection, there was a commotion. The door slammed open, and with a cry, a girl was flung down the stairs. A cruel looking woman appeared at the top, a smug smile on her dark painted lips as the girl hit the floor.

“You cannot escape.” She said, and the girl raised her head. Remy was astonished. The girl made him think of his Tante Mattie… she had dark skin, though not quite as dark, but her hair was a shocking white and her eyes a silvery blue. She got to her feet and wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.

Remy frowned when the woman descended the stairs into the cellar.

“You will live here.” She was declaring in a haughty tone. “In the cold and dark, until that spirit is broken and you will no longer resist the whims of my master.”

“I will never submit!” The girl declared, he voice strong and beautiful. Her courage inspired admiration in the young gypsy, hidden in the shadows, and he knew that he could not leave her there. Chivalry demanded that he save her, and his heart and mind felt strongly about it.

“I will beat you into submission.” The woman spat, and raised a cane.

“Don’t t’ink y’ will!” Remy called, and the girl and woman both jerked, startled. Remy sauntered into a view, a small child with the confidence of a man as he lightly twirled his staff in his fingers. “T’ink de lady can go where she want, non?” And he glanced the white haired girl, who was staring in shock at his eyes. The woman was too…

“Another one…” She breathed, eyes glittering in a malicious sense of triumph. “And what are your powers, child?” She asked, trying to sound kindly.

Remy shrugged. “Dunno. Ain’t got dem yet, me. But don’t need dem… You step back an’ let us leave now, s’il vous plait? Don’t want no trouble…”

“Then why are you in the cellar of a home you do not live in?”

“Ah…” Remy blinked, and then gave a sheepish grin. “Alrigh’… Guess I been caught…” And he happily pulled down a few bottles of wine and slid them into his satchel. 

“You’re a thief.”

“Oui!” Remy admitted, happily. “T’ink I steal HER!” And he pointed at the white haired girl. The woman looked confused, and Remy cocked his head. He felt something. Almost… as though it was her… “Y’ ain’t got use fo’ a couple po’ children…” He persuaded. “Ain’t learned proper skills yet… jus’ be more mouths t’ feed, non? Mo’ trouble dan we be worth, oui?”

“Children are troublesome…” The woman sighed, looking mildly annoyed. Remy smiled, walking up to her, cocking his head.

“Can’t speak fo’ her…” Remy said, nodding to the mutant girl, “but… got no manners, me! Tend t’ run wild like an’ uncivilized heathen… break t’ings a lot, me. Make a mess wherever I go… Y’ don’t need dat hassle.”

“No, definitely not.” The woman agreed, making a face.

“So… we spare y’ de trouble an’ jus’ leave. An’ y’ can enjoy dis peaceful home.” Remy nodded, reaching a hand back. After a moment, the girl accepted it, and Remy gasped softly when he felt a flash of… feelings? Confusion… hope… fear… Remy began to tug her up the stairs.

“M’ apologies fo’ de inconvenience, madame…” He said, reaching the top and tugging the girl through the door. “We be leavin’ y’ in peace now…”

“That would be lovely, thank you…” The woman said, and Remy softly closed the door and tugged the girl down the hall, plucking up things from off of side tables as they moved down the corridor.

“… How did you do that?” The girl asked.

“No idea.” Remy confessed, grinning and snatching a gilded dagger with precious gems laid into the scabbard. “C’est magnifique…”

But then, behind them, the door slammed open and the woman barreled through with a furious shriek.

“DEVIL CHILD!!!” Remy and the girl froze, then Remy snagged her hand and bolted. “My master may demand the girl, but I’ll keep you myself, boy! I’ll make you PAY for using your filthy little demon tricks on me!!!”

“Oh, no!” The girl gasped.

“Jus’ keep up!” Remy blurted, flinging open and window and climbing out. He turned and helped the girl, and then they took off across the grass, eyes wide as the guards closed in.

“RUN!” Remy shouted, shoving his satchel into her hands and spinning his staff as he turned to face the two guards nearest. The girl watched, eyes wide, as the young boy, only three or four years her junior, wielded his staff skillfully, and had disarmed one guard, and had the other on the ground, cradling his manhood, within moments.

“RUN!” Remy commanded again.

“This way!” The girl cried, and tugged Remy to the left.

“Dat be a cliff over dere, cher!” Remy argued.

“Exactly!” The girl grinned, and Remy’s eyes widened as the girl’s eyes turned white. He slowly raised his eyes and took in the darkening clouds as they swirled overhead. The wind picked up, and lightning forked across the sky.

“Are… are YOU--?” He gasped.

“Yes.” The girl smiled, not slowing down as they approached the cliff. “Trust me! JUMP!”

Remy let out a shriek but did as she had said, clinging tightly to her hand. And then she was over him, catching his other hand with her own. They were no longer falling down, but at an angle. And the angle became less and less sharp as they… almost glided into the trees. 

Thunder cracked through the air and the rain began to fall as Remy’s toes skimmed the grass, and then he was running again, his heart in his throat. The girl was beside him. He turned and looked at her, shocked.

“… Who ARE you?!” He demanded to know, eyes wide in awe.

“My name is Ororo. But I am better known as Storm. And you?”

“… Remy. Remy LeBeau.”

“And your other name?”

“… hehn?”

“Your mutant name.”

“… Don’t got one.”

Storm just smiled. “When you get your powers, you will earn one.”

Remy smiled back, then swerved, calling “dis way!”

The children ran through the trees, heading around the cliff and back towards the main road towards the villa. Storm questioned the wisdom of this, but Remy insisted. And then they burst into a clearing and Voleur snorted, tossing his head. Smiling, Remy ran to his papa’s horse, rubbing a hand over the velvety black nose before pulling himself up into the saddle. “C’mon!” He cried, offering his hand and tugging Storm onto the horse behind him, and then Voleur galloped off into the woods.

They rode for several hours in the rain before finally coming to the edge of a large meadow. 

“Oh… You are Romani?” Storm asked.

“Am now, me!” Remy told her, grinning as he urged the horse into camp. Several gypsies came running, ready to welcome Remy back from his test, but their shock registered as soon as they saw Storm. One of the men ran off, and as Remy guided Voleur to the main bonfire in the center of camp, Jean Luc came running up, eyes wide.

“Remy… What’ve y’ done?!” He gasped. “Y’ was s’posed t’ take somet’in small! Somet’in’ dat wouldn’t be noticed!”

Smirking, Remy removed his satchel and offered it. Jean Luc accepted it and peered inside. “What de hell is all dis?!”

“De baubles!” Remy announced, proudly. “An’ some… extras.”

“Dey’ll know dey was hit by a t’ief!”

“Oui.” Remy nodded. “Dey already know.” The troupe gaped at him, horrified. “Dis is Stormy.”

“Excuse me?” Storm blurted, scowling. 

“De lady at de house was gonna hurt her! T’rew her down de cellar stairs, papa! Was gonna do bad t’ings… Couldn’t leave her, me!” Remy explained. Jean Luc stared, then sighed and lifted his son off of the horse, and then carefully helped the girl down, too. Then he stared into her eyes.

“Is dis true?” He asked, and she nodded.

“I have been running from them for a long time.” She admitted. “I was trying to find my way to a place I had heard of. A sanctuary for… people like me. And him.” She glanced at Remy.

“For mutants?” Jean Luc asked, and Storm nodded. 

“I was caught and brought to the house. To be enslaved.” She said. “Remy saved me.”

“An’ got some nice wine, too!” Remy announced, pulling out the several bottles and holding them up, the gypsies cheering in delight and then going through the other items he had stolen, admiring them and sometimes laughing over the silly little worthless things that had just been randomly grabbed…

Jean Luc stared at Remy, and sighed, but ruffled his hair. “Alrigh’, Remy… Y’ did de right t’ing.” He admitted, then drew the boy in for a hug. “Jus’ glad y’ got out safe…” And then he looked at Storm. “Are y’ hurt, cher?”

“No.” Storm answered, shaking her head.

“Den let’s get y’ fed and rested. Y’ can stay wit’ Tante Mattie.” 

On cue, Mattie hurried over. “Oh, Remy… I am so proud o’ you!” She exclaimed, hugging the boy tightly and then hurried Storm away, babbling about checking her over for injuries and assuring her that she was now safe. Jean Luc then turned and stared down at Remy, before taking his hand and pulling him away, saying “Come wit’ me…” He was startled at the sudden sensation of fear that sizzled through him momentarily, and it made him glance back at Remy; the child looked scared.

Jean Luc pulled him into their wagon and lifted Remy up, sitting him down on his desk, and then he sat down in his desk chair and stared at the child. “Tell me everyt’ing, mon fils… What happened?”

Remy gulped, but did so, starting when he had arrived at the house and left Voleur tied to a tree. He described in detail how he had infiltrated the house and made his way into the cellar, and how he had hidden and observed the girl, Storm, being thrown down the stairs. He told Jean Luc what the cruel woman in the house had said, trying to be as accurate as he could.

Jean Luc seemed to go cold when Remy told him of the woman’s reaction when he had revealed his presence… how she had seemed eager upon sight of his eyes, and not frightened. He sat back with a frown when Remy said that the woman had asked him about his powers.

“An’ what did y’ tell de femme?” Jean Luc asked, his voice tense.

“Dat… I ain’t got em yet…” Remy admitted, quietly. Jean Luc nodded. “An’ she asked what Remy be doin’ dere if I ain’t dere fo’ trouble…”

“And?”

“… Said I was a t’ief.” Remy shrugged. “An’ took some wine.”

Outside, several gypsies jumped and stared at the sudden explosion of roaring laughter from Jean Luc’s wagon.

“Remy!” The man cried between giggles when he was able to speak again. “Dat be one o’ de mos’ stupid t’ings y’ eve’ done! An’ damn it all, I can’t be mad at y’, me!” Remy gave his papa a sheepish grin. “Ah, Remy… y’ worry your papa wit’ dese risky gambits y’ take… alrigh’, what happened next?”

“Tol’ de crazy lady dat I was stealin’ Stormy—“

“HAH!”

“—an’ said dat we be nothin’ but useless kids… don’t got no useful skills o’ nothin’… Dat we ain’t wort’ keepin’ aroun’ an… she acted funny.”

“Acted funny?”

“Well… she… she seem a bit… fuzzy?” Remy offered, tapping a fingertip to his temple. “An’ she agreed.”

“Agreed?!”

“She listen t’ Remy.” The little boy explained. “Told ‘er dat Remy be mo’trouble dan he be wort’!”

“Ain’t DAT de trut’…” Jean Luc snorted, grinning. Remy mirrored his smile.

“Wild an’ uncivilized heathen, me! No manners, I break t’ings, make messes…”

“HAH!” Jean Luc barked again.

“An’ den I said we was leavin’ her in peace, an’ she… let us go.”

“Wait… let you go?!”

“Well… kinda?”

“Kinda?”

“Remy take Stormy upstairs an’ we was ‘bout halfway outta de house when she started screamin’ an’ came after us. Call Remy a Devil Child!” He looked oddly pleased at that, giving his papa a wicked little grin. But Jean Luc didn’t say anything. Remy cocked his head, eying the distant look in his papa’s eyes as the man mulled things over.

“… Papa?”

Jean Luc blinked and shook himself back into the moment, looking at the boy. After a long stretch, he sighed, reaching out and stroking Remy’s hair.

“Remy…” 

“Oui?”

“Got some questions f’ you, mon fils…”

“D’accord?”

“… When I be near you… funny t’ings… happen in m’ head.”

“Hehn?” Remy asked, cocking his head in confusion.

“Does y’ head ever feel funny?”

“… Did t’day…” Remy admitted. “When I was talkin’ t de crazy femme… An’ sometimes…. When I be in trouble?”

“In trouble?”

“… When y’ get mad at Remy…” The boy admitted. “Feel hot. Jus’ a bit. Real quick, dere, den gone… here…” He tapped his head, and then his chest. “An’ here… Almos’ like… Remy be angry fo’ a moment.”

“My head feels funny sometimes…” Jean Luc said softly, holding Remy’s small fingers in his own. “When y’ be scared… Feel it, just fo’ a second, here…” He pressed a hand to his own chest. “Like… lightnin’… dere, an’ den gone.”

“Oui!” Remy nodded.

“… Remy… t’ink y’ may be gettin’ y’ powers, mon fils…” Remy stared. “T’ink dat… it be emotions. Y’ can feel ot’er people… an’ dey can feel you. An’… sounds like y’ may be able to make dem feel t’ings, too… sounds like maybe you… charmed dat femme… Can y’ try t’ do it on purpose?”

“… T’ink y’ feel worried, papa…” Remy whispered, eyes wide. 

Jean Luc eyed him for a moment, then nodded, saying “t’ink we ain’t waitin’ fo’ sunrise t’ move on…” And he turned and left the wagon. Within the hour, the troupe was on the move once more. Mattie and Jean Luc guided the wagon together, Remy and the girl, Storm, in the wagon, chatting excitedly.

“Empath.” Mattie declared, once Jean Luc had finished telling her about the conversation with Remy.

“Hehn?” Jean Luc asked.

“De boy may be an Empath, Jean Luc. Can sense and manipulate emotions.” She sighed and shook her head. “Dat gon’ be rough on dat po’ child… He lucky we got ‘im, now…”

“Hm?”

“Well, t’ink, Jean Luc! If he was still in dat town… imagine livin’ an’ bein’ able t’ feel everyone ‘round y’… feel how much dey hate, fear an’ despise y’… How you t’ink de boy take dat? We need t’ help him get control… dat power can hurt ‘im, jus’ as much as it could help ‘im… maybe more…

“An’ what about de girl?” Henri called from where he rode his horse beside them.

“What?” Jean Luc asked.

“She gon’ stay wit’ us?” Henri asked.

“Je ne sais…” Jean Luc sighed. “T’ink I know where she was headed, me… We gon’ take ‘er dere, an’ den we see…” And he and Mattie both smiled when they heard Remy’s laughter from back in the wagon, followed by the girl making a noise of amusement and exasperation.

“Do NOT call me Stormy!”


	7. Chapter 7

For the next three weeks, Jean Luc discretely asked around, trying to find any information on the mutant sanctuary that the young girl, Storm, had been seeking. The girl, in the mean time, had struck up a quick and close friendship with young Remy. Before long, they were referring to one another as brother and sister.

Storm joined in Remy’s lessons with him, learning to fight and defend herself. Like Remy, she was a quick learner, and she was strong and agile. Unlike Remy, she was poised and graceful… Remy was just a little hellion, and was getting quite the mouth on him, much to Jean Luc’s dismay. But he made her laugh, when no one else could.

She had been with them for a month when they finally found something. Or, to be more accurate, something found them…

Remy saw them first… the troupe had figured out a while back that the child’s eyes were incredibly adept at seeing in the dark, whereas he tended to shy away from direct sunlight.

Remy had been sitting by his papa, watching the man playing poker with a few others, and trying to give his papa advice, to everyone’s amusement, when he suddenly went still and quiet.

“… Remy?” Asked Andre, frowning at the boy who seemed to be staring at something over his shoulder. Remy stood then.

“Someone’s comin’…” He gasped, and the men dropped their cards and turned. They peered into the darkness, but saw nothing. “T’ree riders…” Remy added. Jean Luc glanced at the horses; sure enough, several of them had their ears perked, and were also staring in the direction Remy was looking. The gypsies went quiet and began to rise, fingering hilts of swords, daggers, and reaching for crossbows. Remy clutched his staff, standing close to Jean Luc.

A few moments later, and they could see movement, and hear the soft thumps of hooves on the ground, and the subtle creaks and jingles of the horses’ tack. Then, they emerged into the firelight. The horses were plain enough; two chestnuts and a gray. The riders were a bit more intriguing… Riding the gray was a bald man with piercing eyes, and flanking him were a teenage boy and girl. A younger boy rode behind the teenage man, arms wrapped around his waist. The girl had vivid red hair and brilliant green eyes. The teenage boy had brown hair, and his eyes were covered with what appeared to be strange, bulky spectacles with red lenses. The boy behind him was a sandy blond with icy blue eyes. 

They came to a stop a safe distance away, and then, as the gypsies gawked in amazement, there was a deep whooshing and a gust of wind, and then something large and white came into view. A young adolescent man dropped from the sky beside the horses, massive feathered wings, gleaming white, furling to rest at his back.

“Good evening.” Said the man at the forefront. “I hear you have been looking for us.”

No one spoke. Everyone was still. After a moment, Jean Luc moved forward, leaving Remy tucked protectively behind Olivier and Andre, while Henri stayed by his father.

“Dat depends on who y’ be, monsieur.” He called. The bald man looked upon him and smiled.

“My name is Charles Xavier. May we join you at your fire and talk?”

After a long pause, Jean Luc nodded, and Xavier dismounted, approaching and offering a hand. Jean Luc accepted it. “Jean Luc LeBeau… Rom Baro.” 

“We have one more with us.” Xavier confessed. “But many do not take well to his appearance. It is quite frightening to some. But I assure you, he will harm no one unless we are suitably threatened. May he join us?”

“… Fo’ now.” Jean Luc nodded. Only seconds later, a fourth horse appeared, this one bearing the load of a large, bizaare creature. He was massive and strongly built, and covered in a thick, deep blue fur. His yellow eyes swept the Romani and he dismounted, before giving a smile and bow and saying “Good evening, friends.”

Jean Luc was looking back and forth between this bestial man, and the handsome winged blonde, and then he said “T’ink I have been lookin’ f’ you…” And he turned and swept an arm out, gesturing towards the main bonfire. Smiling pleasantly, Xavier let him lead the small group to the fire.

“Allow me to present my companions.” He declared. “This is Lady Jean Grey.” The girl smiled and gave a little curtsy as Jean Luc took her hand, and with a dashing smile, he bowed and kissed it (Remy was suitably impressed when the girl blushed, and decided he had to learn that). “This young man is Scott Summers, the boy with him is Robert Drake, or Bobby. This fearsome looking fellow here is Dr. Henry McCoy, or Hank, and this is young exiled Lord Warren Worthington III.”

The winged man shook hands with Jean Luc, who sighed and asked, “exiled over de wings…?”

“… Yes.” Warren answered coldly, narrowing his eyes. 

“Desole, monsieur…” Jean Luc nodded. “We seen a few folk like y’, dat be cast out fo’… bein’ different.” He ran his eyes over the strangers. “Mutants, dey call y’?” He asked, and Xavier nodded.

“So they call us.” He said, as the others sat down around him. “I have a home, hidden in the forests and foothills, that I have opened as a sanctuary for those who are like us. And I hear you have been searching for this place. May I inquire as to why?”

“Firs’…” Jean Luc said firmly, “need t’ know… jus’ what kind of sanctuary d’you provide?”

“A place to live, and to be oneself, without the torment and condemnation of society.” Xavier declared. “Lady Gray, Messrs Summers and Worthington, and Dr. McCoy have been with me for several years. Young Robert is a new resident that we just gathered. We were taking him home when word came that you were looking for us.”

“What kinda home dis be?” Jean Luc asked.

“An old castle that has been in the family for generations, sir. Only a small handful of us live there now… The Lady Frost, a young Scottsman with a… powerful voice…” Scott Summers, Jean Grey and Dr. McCoy looked amused, “and there is my old friend, Magnus, who is out seeking out other mutants like ourselves, with a young lady named Raven.”

“An’ what do dese people do at dis sanctuary?”

“Live.” Xavier said with a smile. “In peace. Someday, I seek to perhaps have a full village there… where everyone of them can have the chance at a true life, with skills to put to use, to earn their way in the world, where the world will not allow them to, elsewhere. More than anything, I seek to give people such as myself, a place to simply be who and what they are, without being hated and feared… To give them a family…”

Jean Luc stared in silence for a long time.

“… There is someone with you that you were seeking us out for, isn’t there?” Xavier asked. Jean Luc frowned slightly. “You seek to decide if we are a safe option for them.”

“… Oui.”

“Sir… whether they come with us or not is their choice.” Xavier told Jean Luc. “We will not take them by force, nor will you force them to come with us. But if this is what they wish, they are welcome.”

Jean Luc sighed, then turned and waved a hand. A moment later Tante Mattie walked over with the girl, Storm. Jean Luc took her hand and looked up into the girls’ eyes.

“Y’ heard ‘im, petit… It be y’ choice…” He said, and she slowly turned and looked at the group, who were looking delighted to see her. He flinched slightly at the jolt of anxiety that stabbed through his gut for a moment, and he noted that Xavier and the Lady Grey both stiffened slightly, their eyes suddenly darting around the crowd. But after a moment, Xavier looked back at the girl.

“What is your name, my dear?” He asked, kindly.

“… Ororo…” She said softly. “… Storm.”

“I am Charles Xavier. Professor X.” And he turned and gestured to the others, “Cyclops, Phoenix, Beast, Angel, and, well… we’re still thinking…” He chuckled, looking at Bobby.

“… Iceman.” Bobby declared, suddenly.

“Iceman?” Scott asked, smiling down at the child. Bobby nodded.

“Iceman it is, then.” Xavier smiled, looking pleased.

“De girl was searchin’ fo’ sanctuary when one o’ my people came across ‘er. She’d been taken prisoner by a woman… in a house, ‘bout a month’s travel dat way.” He gestured. “He saved her, brought her here.”

“And you have kept her safe?” The young woman asked, suddenly. Everyone looked at Jean. She flushed, lowering her eyes. “I’m sorry. We generally find others of our kind being… persecuted. Not protected.”

“We be a bit more learned den de folk who live deir whole lives in a village, mademoiselle.” Jean Luc smiled, slightly. “We come across mutants b’fore. In fact…” He looked at the Dr. McCoy. “T’ink one of our elders may have come across you.”

“I have met many Romani.” McCoy nodded, giving a toothy smile. “Your people do tend to, how shall I put this… take mutants more in stride.”

“Many Romani aren’t treated much better than mutants, I’m afraid.” Xavier observed. Jean Luc glanced up at the winged man, Warren. He seemed to be hiding a sneer. Apparently, he didn’t think much of Romani, himself.

“Thank you.” Jean said. “For protecting her.”

“The one who saved her must be quite brave, and noble.” Xavier commented, obviously fishing for something.

“Oui…” Jean Luc said softly, his eyes glazing over for a moment. For a split second, Scott, Jean, Henry and Xavier saw a look of sadness flash over his face… fear, grief… But then he schooled his features and turned, calling out over his shoulder, “Remy?”

There was no answer. “Remy!” Silence. The other gypsies began to turn now, looking around for the little boy. Jean Luc stood, turning and looking around. “He was jus’ here… Remy? Henri?”

“He was jus’ here!” Henri echoed his father with a shrug.

“Where is he?” Storm asked.

The gypsies began to mumble and shrug, no one giving any indication that they knew where he was.

“With your permission…” Xavier said slowly, “may I try to find this Remy?”

Jean Luc eyed him. “How?”

“It will not harm him. I will merely scan the immediate area for his mental presence. I am a telepath, you see. I can reach out to the minds of others, with my own.”

“… won’t hurt him?” Jean Luc asked, frowning. “He be a child. Jus’ a little boy. Only ten.”

“I will not harm him. I will not touch his mind, I will merely feel for its presence.” Xavier assured him. After a moment, Jean Luc nodded his consent. Xavier closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Only seconds passed before he smiled slightly and turned his gaze to Jean Luc. “The little fellow seems to be watching us from up a tree. To your left. The tall one, several dozen yards back into the woods.” Jean Luc didn’t look, not wanting to alert Remy that he had been found.

“De boy mus’ be afraid, Jean Luc…” Mattie voiced what several others were thinking.

“I hope it wasn’t me!” Dr. McCoy exclaimed in dismay.

“No.” All eyes turned to young Ororo. “He does not wish for me to go with you. He wants me to stay here. With him. And… while he said he would accept my decision to go, he is afraid that he will be sent with me.”

“What now?” Jean Luc demanded, planting his hands on his hips.

“Y’ two done talked about dis?” Mattie asked, and Ororo nodded.

“Many times.”

“Why would he be afraid that he would be sent with us?” Scott asked, his question obviously just wanting his suspicions confirmed.

“… De child be a mutant.” Jean Luc nodded. “We took ‘im in dis past Autumn. Foun’ de boy in a town towards de end of our yearly route. Had been ostracized an’ was an orphan on de streets. Had taken t’ theivin’ t’ survive. I caught de boy pickin’ my pocket an’ dey was gonna kill ‘im. So I adopted him. He’s my son, now.”

The mutants were staring at Jean Luc in something akin to amazement. Then, eyes sparkling, Xavier seized the Rom Baro’s hand and bowed his head. “Sir… you are truly a King among men.”

“Non, monsieur…” Jean Luc protested. “I jus’ be a man who don’t let ‘imself be ruled by silly superstitions an’ foolish priests who swear dat de child be de son of Lucifer. He’s a mutant. An’ he jus’ a little boy… dat’s all.”

“He’s worried that he’s going to be taken away from the first and only family he’s ever had…” Jean breathed, now clinging tightly to Scott’s hand. “Of course he’s scared.”

Jean Luc and Xavier stared at one another for a very long time. “As a mutant… he may be bette’ off wit’you.” Jean Luc admitted, and Xavier sighed and nodded, but then said “but as a child, right here may be the best place for him. If he feels safe and secure with you…”

“Has he begun to develop his powers yet?” Dr. McCoy asked. Jean Luc and Mattie exchanged looked.

“Maybe…” Jean Luc admitted. “Not sure, me.”

“Well,” Xavier said, seeing how reluctant Jean Luc was to discuss this, “perhaps we give the young man some time to come back on his own. And give the young lady,” he nodded to Storm, “some time to consider her options. I believe we are heading in the same direction… would you object if we travel with you for a few days?”

“You be welcome, monsieur,” Jean Luc nodded. “We got stew on if y’ folk be hungry.” And at the gracious smiles and nods, stew was served to their guests.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Remy remained perched up in the tree for a long time, watching the group around the fire. He would systematically break off small branches from the pine tree, and strip them of their needles, one by one, letting them blow away on the breeze. Several times he had to swallow a lump in his throat, or blink away the burn of tears in his eyes as he wondered if his papa would send him away. He was terrified of the thought… Papa had said he loved him… that he would always be his papa, and the troupe was his family, the caravan his home… But was it really? Or would Jean Luc prove to be a liar?

He remained in his tree for hours… he watched the troupe and their guests retire, until the only ones up were the normal pair standing watch. Remy sighed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree, hugging his knees to his chest. And slowly, his eyes drifted closed…

“Remy? C’mon now…” He snapped them open with a gasp, only to close them again in the bright morning sun. He almost lost his balance, but managed to steady himself. The voice from below called up again. “Y’s slept in long enough, mon fils! Time t’ get movin’! Come down.”

“Papa?”

“Ah… awake now?”

“… Oui… Remy awake.”

“Why y’ be sleepin’ in a tree, boy?” Jean Luc chuckled.

“Je ne sais…”

“Oh really?” Jean Luc drawled. “C’mon down.” Sighing, Remy obeyed, climbing down carefully. He gasped when hands plucked him off of a lower branch, and then he was sitting astride Voleur before his papa, who chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “Maybe y’ mutant name be Singe…”

“Remy ain’t no monkey!” Remy snorted, indignantly. Jean Luc grinned.

“Ecureuil? Tamia?”

“Ain’t no squirrel o’ chipmunk, neither!” Remy complained as his papa guided the horse back to camp.

“Perhaps y’ be petit oiseau… Little bird?” Jean Luc continued to prod.

“Pfft!” Remy dismissed that suggestion too, and Jean Luc laughed. They had reached camp by then, and upon seeing that the Rom Baro had recovered his wayward son, the caravan got moving. But when Remy saw the mutants, he tensed, leaning back into his papa and fisting his small hands in the man’s cloak that was keeping out the chill of the spring morning.

“Bonjour,” Jean Luc greeted, and Xavier smiled and nodded.

“Good morning, sir.” He responded, and then looked down; Remy had his head bowed, hair obscuring his face. “Ah. This must be your son. And a good morning to you, young man.”

“… Remy?” Jean Luc prompted. “Manners, mon fils.”

“… Mornin’.” Remy mumbled. Xavier smiled as Jean Luc rolled his eyes to the heavens.

“Remy… eye contact, an’ speak up.” The little rusty head shook back and forth, and Jean Luc stared down at him, surprised. “Remy!”

“It’s quite alright.” Xavier chuckled. “We have several days to get to know each other.” And he guided his horse back to the others, while Jean Luc turned his attention to Remy, who had tensed up at Xavier’s words.

“Dey gonna travel wit’ us a few days.” He explained gently. “Let Storm get t’ know dem an’ decide what she wanna do. You can go too… if y’ want.” Jean Luc had to pause for a moment, shocked at how heartbroken that thought left him. “But only if y’ want, mon fils… Dis be your choice. An’ whateve’ y’ choose, it don’t hafta be fo’ever.” He wrapped an arm around the child. “If y’ go, an’ y’ wanna come back later… y’ can. If y’ wanna stay, an’ later change y’ mind… y’ can do dat, too… it be whateve’ y’ want, Remy. An’ whateve’ y’ choose, y’ Papa gon’ support you… I love you, mon fils. No matte’ what…” And he kissed the boy’s hair again.

“… Je taime, Papa…” Came the little whisper, and Jean Luc smiled and guided his horse along, content to hold his son close for the time being.

That evening Remy disappeared again. But Jean Luc wasn’t about to let him sleep in a tree. After Xavier had located him, Jean Luc went to fetch the boy. He returned fifteen minutes later, with Remy clinging to his hand. The mutants watched in silent interest when Jean Luc sat down on the ground and, smiling, got Remy settled beside him.

“Dere’s m’ boy…” Mattie cooed, bustling over with a large bowl, which she pressed into Remy’s hands. “Missed y’ last night, Remy child…” She said, kissing his hair. “Eat up.” 

Well aware of the eyes on him, Remy hunched over his bowl and began to eat awkwardly. Jean Luc just sighed, but Mattie firmly told Remy to “sit up… eat like a gentleman.” Remy straightened a bit. “All de way, Remy…”

“Let de boy alone.” Jean Luc said in a soft tone. Mattie blinked and eyed him, then Remy, and then the mutants, then just silently nodded, stroked a hand over Remy’s hair and went to get her own bowl.

“Ororo…” Xavier said after a bit. “It seems you and Jean had quite the conversation today.”

“We did,” Ororo nodded with a smile. “I would like to go with you.”

A pang of grief shot through everyone, just for a moment. Several people looked startled and confused. Jean and Xavier looked around, sharply. Both noted how Jean Luc and Mattie both looked at Remy. The little boy had stopped eating. His bowl was in his lap, and he was hunched over again. After a moment, he set it aside and abruptly stood, walking away.

“Remy?!” Jean Luc called. Storm rose and went after him, grabbing his wrist. 

“Please… don’t be like that…” She pleaded, and Remy stopped. Then she was hugging him, and he hugged her back. “Come with me, brother.” This time, it was a spark of fear that zinged through everyone.

“Can’t…” Remy gasped, shaking his head. “C’est ma maison… dis my home…”

“… I will miss you, brother.” Storm sighed, hugging him tightly.

“Y’ hafta go?” Remy whimpered plaintively, allowing Storm to tug him back to the fire by the hand.

“I believe I do. My powers are getting stronger, and harder to control. They can help me.” Storm said, sitting down with Remy between herself and Jean Luc.

“Some day,” Xavier said, gently, “we may need to help you too, young man.”

“He’s right, Remy.” Jean Luc said. “Y’ always be welcome wit’ me. Y’ always be my son. An’ y’ always got a home here. But someday, y’ may have t’ go wit’ dese folk, if y’ powers be too much t’ handle.”

“If you ever find that you may be dangerous to yourself or others… that you may hurt someone unintentionally, because you cannot control your abilities…” Xavier explained, “you must come to us for help.”

“… If Remy hurt people… Remy understand…” The boy nodded, and finally looked up at Xavier.

“Oh…” Jean breathed.

“Wow.” Said Scott, perking up.

“Your eyes are fascinating…” Dr. McCoy declared, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Remy…” Jean Luc said, rubbing his son’s back. “Dis be Professor Charles Xavier. An’ someday, if y’ need help wit’ y’ mutant powers… he be de one t’ help y’…”

“A pleasure to meet you, young man.” Xavier smiled, offering a hand. After a moment, Remy took it.

Later that night, Jean Luc emerged from his wagon, after tucking Remy in.

“How is he?” Xavier asked.

“Still afraid dat he gon’ be sent away against his will…” Jean Luc sighed.

“… He’s getting his powers, isn’t he?” Xavier asked.

Jean Luc sighed, watching as Mattie approached, having seen Storm off to bed as well.

“There were… strange sensations.” Xavier continued as they walked, not towards the main fire, but towards the trees. “… Emotions. We all felt them. And the two of you seem to believe that they came from the boy?”

“… oui.” Jean Luc admitted. “Happened a few times. If de boy be feelin’ somet’in strong an’… suddenly… it be like he…”

“Projects it?” They turned and watched the girl, Jean, approach. She looked at her mentor, Xavier. “Like us… only instead of projecting a thought, he projects a feeling?”

“An emotion.” Xavier corrected.

“Is he a telepath?” Jean asked, and Xavier shook his head. 

“No. But he is something similar.”

“He be an Empath, petit.” Mattie said, smiling at the teenage girl.

“He can feel emotion from ot’er people, too.” Jean Luc added. “An’… maybe even manipulate dem.” And he told Xavier of how Remy had managed to temporarily diffuse the hostility of the woman holding Storm by talking to her.

“Fascinating.” Xavier nodded. “Almost like he can cast a hypnotic influence.”

“Would he be like other telepaths?” Jean asked. “With a secondary mutation?”

“What now?” Mattie and Jean Luc asked in unison.

“Many telepaths,” Xavier began, “seem to have a secondary mutation. The Lady Frost is a telepath, but can also turn her body into a… crystal-like material that renders her indestructible. There is another young lady we know by the name of Betsy, who is able to… travel through shadows. Jean, here, is also telekinetic. Your son likely has another mutation as well, that may come when he is a bit older.”

“Mon dieu…” Jean Luc groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “De boy be a handful already, wit’out powers…” Xavier chuckled.

“We’ll be fine, Jean Luc.” Mattie said. “Y’ been a good papa to dat boy… He—“

She stopped when Jean and Xavier both turned. A moment later and the door to Jean Luc’s wagon flew open and Remy burst out in his long night shirt. 

“PAPA?!” He cried, looking frantic. Jean Luc grunted as the terror hit him like a punch to the gut. Xavier actually had to steady Jean as he said “I believe he had a nightmare.”

“Remy?” Jean Luc called, striding over. Remy turned and fixed his wide eyes on the man, and then broke into a run. Jean Luc knelt and caught him, hugging him tight; Remy was crying. “What’s wrong, Remy?” He asked.

“Y’ said y’ wasn’t gon’ send me away, but den y’ left me alone! An’ I woke up an’ y’ wasn’t dere!”

“Y’ dreamed dat I left y’?” Jean Luc asked, and Remy nodded. “Oh, Remy no… Would never leave y’, me…” He said, standing. Remy wrapped his legs around the man’s waist, clinging tightly. Jean Luc turned and looked back at Xavier, who looked pained. And then, for the first time, Xavier spoke into the Rom Baro’s mind.

‘I am so sorry that our presence here has triggered this in him. I would like to try, while I am here, to teach him to… erect shields in his mind to being to learn to control this power. But perhaps it is best that we part ways sooner than intended… for his sake.’

Jean Luc sighed, and then slowly, he nodded. ‘Dat may be for de best…’ He answered. ‘Jus’ wish he didn’t have t’ say goodbye t’ Ororo so soon…’ 

Xavier smiled and said, ‘Your troupe follows the same schedule and the same route every year… perhaps we can arrange for them to visit each other every year…’

‘Dat would be wonderful,’ Jean Luc grinned. ‘We discuss it in de mornin’…’

‘Of course,’ Xavier nodded, and then out loud, “Good night.” And he watched Jean Luc carry Remy, still sniffling and shivering, back to his wagon. He tried to put Remy back to bed, but the distraught child wouldn’t have it. And for the first time since winter, and without a thunderstorm, the Rom Baro found himself with the boy in his bed, resting his head on his chest and fisting his hands tightly in his nightshirt. Jean Luc sighed, kissing the russet hair before relaxing into sleep. And Remy spent the rest of the night clinging tightly to his Papa.


	8. Chapter 8

In the morning, Jean Luc LeBeau and Charles Xavier met to discuss travel plans, and perhaps see about the possibility of meeting once a year, for Remy to see Storm, and for yearly evaluations of Remy’s mutation, as it developed. While they did this, Jean Grey made her way over to where Remy was grooming Broulliard.

“Good morning.” She called softly. Remy paused and turned and look at her. Smiling, she held out her hand. “I’m Jean.” Remy was still for a moment, then accepted her hand, bowing slightly and raising it, pressing a little kiss to her knuckles. She smiled at the boy and gave a little curtsy in response as he said “Remy…” Their hands dropped and they stared at each other.

“… Professor Xavier found me,” she said, softly, “when I lost control of my power. There was so much of it. Too much. And… it was as though the… End of Days had come…”

“What y’ power be?” Remy asked. Jean blinked softly, and Remy gasped when the bucket of feed beside him, several rocks, and other tools suddenly rose off of the ground and floated in the air. 

“I’m a telekinetic.” Jean said. “And a telepath. And my power is great. It was hurting people. The Professor had to come and… get into my head. To cut me off from it. Or, most of it…” Everything returned gently to the ground. “They wanted to burn me as a witch. He gathered me up and ran with me. I’ve been with him ever since. And I’m learning to control my power now.” She turned and looked across the camp. “Warren tried very hard to hide his mutation from his family… when they eventually found out, he was cast out. He fled, hundreds of miles. Never stopped running… until he found Scott. Scott was on the road… a blind beggar. A child. When his mutation manifested, he… kind of incinerated the church in his township. He has these… bright red energy blasts from his eyes, that destroy everything he looks at. He was learning to control it, but… it was an accident. But a mob attacked him and he was hit in the head. And he’s never been able to turn it off since. He had to keep himself blindfolded all the time. He and Warren bonded on the run, and then Professor Xavier found them. He already had Hank—“

“Hehn?”

“Dr. McCoy,” Jean clarified, “with him. They had run into each other by chance while travelling, and became friends. Hank tried to help Scott, and found that by making these… lenses out of some kind of… thing he calls quartz or something… he can block Scott’s powers, and Scott can still see.”

“Dat why he wear dose ugly t’ings on ‘is eyes?”

“Yes.” Jean smiled.

“Why y’ tellin’ Remy all dis, cher?”

“So you understand.” Jean said. “So that maybe… we can be friends.”

“Ain’t goin’ wit’ y’, me.” Remy said firmly, and turned back to Brouillard.

“I know. But I think that they are trying to plan so that we can see each other every spring? So you can see Storm?”

“… Really?” Remy asked, pausing before turning and looking at her. 

“And so we can help you a bit, if you need it.”

“Wit’ what?”

“… With how you can feel what other people are feeling.” Jean said, and Remy blinked. “How you can feel it if someone is angry at you. Or if someone is scared… you can make others feel what you feel. When you were afraid you would be sent away with us, we could all feel how scared you were…”

Remy paled, and his eyes widened.

Jean took an earnest step forwards. “They call you an Empath. I’ve never met one, but if it works anything like telepathy, we can help you. So that you don’t make people feel your emotions unless you want them too. And so you can… block out other people’s emotions. Like how I block out people’s thoughts…”

Remy slowly cocked his head and angled himself towards her now. “Y’ t’ink y’ can teach Remy?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’d like to try.” Jean said with a smile, and held out her hand. Remy stared for a moment, and then took it. 

“Remy would like t’ learn…” He nodded, and Jean beamed.

“The Professor taught me to build my shields. I can try to teach you. He started by… touching my mind and showing me by constructing a… foundation of sorts.”

“Alrigh’… y’ show Remy?”

“Yes!” Jean nodded, and closed her eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I think it’s a splendid idea!” Hank McCoy exclaimed, beaming at Xavier and Jean Luc. “That way, the children will still see each other, we can be kept informed of young Remy’s development, and can perhaps offer you advice on how to help him!”

“Dat’s de hope.” Jean Luc nodded. “Remy understand dat he may hafta go wit’ y’ someday, an’ he accepts dat, but he don’t like it…”

“Give him time, my dear friend.” Hank chuckled. “He’s a little boy who has never had a home, or someone who loved him… of course he would be loathe to leave it now. His life with you must be heaven in his young eyes and starved soul…”

“He’s a child,” Xavier nodded, “with much to fear… and now, to him… everything to lose.”

Jean Luc opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, he felt a horrible sensation… first, pain sizzled through his skull, and then shock and confusion seemed to slam into his gut… then came the mounting fear, and then, GOD THE PAIN!!! The pain in his skull!!

He gasped and stumbled… it was gone as soon as it had come, and there were cries of shock from all over the camp as the gypsies stumbled, staggered into each other, fell to their knees clutching their heads… some of the children fell to the ground, crying…

And then, the screams. High, piercing… such pain, and terror. All eyes turned. It was Remy and Jean, clutching their skulls and stumbling… and then they both collapsed and went still and silent. Henri was there almost immediately, falling to his knees and frantically looking over his little brother, afraid to touch him.

“Remy?!”

“Jean? JEAN!!” Scott cried, bolting to her side, even as Jean Luc and Xavier ran towards them. Hank got there first in great leaps, and Warren landed a moment later, kneeling beside Scott, who was cradling Jean in his arms and shaking her softly, calling out to her.

Hank was crouched over Remy, checking his pulse. Jean Luc dropped to his knees beside him and was quickly gathering the limp body of the child into his arms and clutching him to his chest, staring down fearfully at the lax features.

“Remy? REMY?! Mon dieu! Ouvre tes yeux! Open y’ eyes, fils! S’il t’ plait! Answer me!” He lifted his frantic gaze to Hank.

“What did he do to her?!” Scott all but screamed, turning his furious gaze onto Jean Luc, but the man paid him no mind. He cradled his child, begging him to respond…

Ororo and Bobby arrived then with Tante Mattie, who fell to her knees with a cry, reaching out to Remy.

“That’s enough, Scott.” Xavier said firmly kneeling and resting his palm on Jean’s forehead. After a moment, she sucked in a breath and her eyes fluttered.

“Jean!” Scott gasped, helping her sit up. She looked around, confused and wincing, pressing a hand to her head. Then she saw Remy, and her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no! What did I do?!” She cried.

“You tell me, Jean…” Xavier said, gently. “What did you do?”

“I… I wanted to help him.” She gasped, her voice shaking as tears welled up in her eyes. “To teach him to… shield his mind, like you taught me? So he wasn’t… feeling and projecting emotions like he was…”

“And?” Xavier asked.

“When our minds touched, it…” She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “God, it HURT!!!”

Xavier frowned, and then turned to Jean Luc, who was still holding Remy. He eyed the child, frowning and thinking.

“He seems fine, physically.” Hank told him.

“Perhaps it is something with… empathy and telepathy?” Xavier murmured, thinking out loud. A moment later, and Remy whimpered and stirred, before blinking open his eyes.

“… Papa?”

“Remy?! Y’ alrigh’?!”

“… head hurts…” Remy groaned, closing his eyes and curling his fingers into his papa’s shirt. “… Jeannie?!” He suddenly bolted up. “I hurt ‘er!”

“I’m alright!” Jean gasped as horror swept through everyone, radiating powerfully off of Remy. The boy turned and looked at her, and the feeling faded. “I’m alright… I’m so sorry, Remy… I don’t know what happened.”

“M-My head… feels funny…” Remy whined then, clutching his hair. 

“How do you mean?” Xavier asked.

“Sore… raw? Open…” Remy mumbled. “Feel… too much!” Jean Luc looked to Xavier for an explanation of this.

“I believe that in trying to help him construct shields, Jean shocked him into dropping what natural shields his has, completely.”

“Can he get dem back?!” Henri gasped.

“Of course. Jean does not have the strength or ability to shatter a shield completely. It would be best for Remy to sleep it off. I can try to help bring them up again, too. And lay the foundation for stronger ones, as Jean was trying to do… I am much more knowledgeable and experienced.”

Jean Luc paused, then nodded. Xavier shuffled over and rested a hand on Remy’s head, then reached out with his mind and—

The child arched back in Jean Luc’s arms and let out a piercing scream, raw and agonized. Xavier recoiled violently with his own cry of pain, clutching his head even as Remy’s scream tapered off into hysterical sobs and he writhed in Jean Luc’s arms, crying in distress, begging his papa to make the pain stop…

Jean Luc was beside himself, torn between wanting to comfort his child, and attack the man who had hurt him.

“What de hell did y’ do?!” He shouted, holding Remy close with trembling hands, twisting away when Hank reached for the boy, and Henri got between them, eyes blazing. “GET AWAY FROM ‘IM!”

Hank respectfully obeyed.

“I’m sorry…” Xavier gasped, finally looking up. “I think I understand, now…”

Jean Luc looked livid. 

“I have never touched the mind of an empath…” Xavier admitted. “It is… overwhelming. Touching his mind, we were essentially opening ourselves up to one another’s emotions. And it was… shocking. It was overwhelming, painful and once the pain is recognized, our emotions feed off of one another with pain, shock, fear until our minds were… overloaded. I believe that if I can wall off my emotions, I can successfully help him without harming him.”

“Y’ believe…” Jean Luc snarled, protectively. “Dat ain’t good enough!”

“… I won’t attempt anything further…” Xavier said gently. “I am so sorry…” And he looked down at Remy, whose cries had softened to sniffles and whimpers.

“Let de homme try ‘gain, Jean Luc…” Mattie said suddenly, her tone gentle. “He didn’t MEAN t’ hurt Remy… An’ if it helps… it be wort’ it…” Jean Luc stared at her for a long time. He didn’t look happy… but he trusted the woman. And after a moment, he nodded and allowed Xavier to approach. The man’s hand rested on Remy’s forehead and he closed his eyes.

Remy tensed, sucking in a breath and trembling… soft, strained whimpers came from his throat, but then, slowly, his body relaxed and his features softened, and he went limp in Jean Luc’s arms. A few seconds later, Xavier withdrew his hand and opened his eyes.

“There… he will sleep for a while…”

“An’… de shields?”

“I have drawn up what he already had, and laid a base for him to build upon, to layer stronger shields over what he has now. He would have eventually been able to do this on his own, but it would have taken a long time, and there would have been many mishaps. Hopefully, this way, he can develop his shields stronger, faster, and with less trouble…” He looked at Jean Luc. “It would be best to prevent telepaths from… touching his mind. For Remy’s sake, and theirs…” 

Jean Luc nodded, bowing his head and gently kissing his son’s cheek as he slept…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Remy woke that afternoon, he had a bit of a headache, but he felt fine otherwise. He eagerly devoured the lunch that Henri brought him, and was happy to go and play with Ororo and Bobby, who quickly impressed him by shooting ice bolts around, and then covering a hill with snow so that they could go sledding.

Jean Luc and Xavier spent several hours deep in conversation, discussing the development of Remy’s abilities, his shields, and coming up with ideas of anything that could help him. Only once was the subject of Remy going with Xavier broached, and was quickly shot down, by both men… the boy needed to learn to control his abilities, but more than that, he needed his papa…

That night found Jean Luc searching for Remy at bed time… a smiling Xavier told him to check the top of the hill that the children had been sledding on earlier. Jean Luc found Hank there, sitting on the ground with several children cuddled up against his warm, furry body. Remy, in fact, was curled up in his lap. They were staring at the stars as Hank pointed out the constellations and told the children stories about them.

“—and so Perseus, mounted upon Pegasus, took the head of Medusa out of the sack and held it up. And the sea monster took one look… and turned to stone!!!”

The children let out delighted gasps. “Perseus freed the Princess Andromeda, and they went to find her parents… but King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia, had also looked upon Medusa… and they had turned to stone. Andromeda mourned, but remembered that they had been the ones who had left her for the monster in the first place… She went with Perseus, who gifted Medusa’s head to Athena, who placed it upon her shield… and then Perseus and Andromeda married.”

“Did dey live happily ever after?” Asked a little girl of six.

“They did indeed.” Hank nodded, lowering his gaze from the stars and smiling at Jean Luc. “But… I believe that I have kept you all up past your bed time… it seems that your Rom Baro has come after me.” He chuckled as the children all turned guilty looks onto the gypsy leader.

“Havin’ fun?” The man asked, smiling.

“Papa!” Remy gasped, scrambling out of Hank’s lap and running to the man. “Did y’ know dere are pictures in de stars?!”

“I did.” Jean Luc nodded, picking Remy up and settling him on his hip, while Hank took the hands of a couple of children and began to herd them all down the hill and back to camp. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve looked at dem… not sure if I remember dem all, me… maybe y’ can show me, oui?”

“Oui, Papa! Remy show y’!”

“I see the missing children have been found…” Xavier chuckled as they appeared in came.

“Seems dat y’ furry friend here, made off wit’ dem.” Jean Luc grinned, as parents moved in to collect their children. “He was tellin’ dem some bed time stories in de stars.” And the Jean Luc chuckled as the children chattered animatedly to their parents, pointing up into the sky in their excitement. The parents acted suitably impressed at their children’s new found knowledge as they took them back to their wagons to tuck them into bed.

Xavier was still smiling as well. “Dr. McCoy is a wonderful babysitter.”

“Children are such precious creatures.” Hank beamed. “Innocent and inquisitive. Absolutely enchanting.”

“… Wha’s in… in-kwiz-tiv?” Remy asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Curious, mon fils.” Jean Luc answered. “Someone dat want t’ learn, an’ dat likes t’ask questions.”

“Oh.” Remy nodded, then let out a big yawn.

“Time f’ dis curious lil’ devil t’ head t’ bed…” Jean Luc chuckled, turning and heading towards the wagon. Voices drifted back to Xavier, his companions, and the other gypsies around the main bonfire. 

“Can Remy stay up, Papa?”

“Stay up? What fo’?”

“Wanna stay wit’ you.”

“Ah, y’ don’t wanna do dat, Remy… de grown ups are jus’ gon’ sit aroun’ at talk ‘bout borin’ adult t’ings, oui? T’ink y’ find dat y’ dreams be a lot mo’ fun…” And he stepped into the wagon, emerging ten minutes later. “Fast asleep befo’ I even finished tuckin’ him in… He was tryin’ t’ ask me t’ stay wit’ him til he was asleep… didn’t even get de full question out…” Chuckles ran around the fire, as a couple of others reported something similar with their own children.

Conversation around the fire tapered off for a bit, and then Xavier spoke up.

“Jean Luc… I… have a request.”

“I’m listenin’…?”

“In your travels, you occasionally come across mutants.”

“We have, oui…”

“If you come across one in need of help… of a safe place… would you be willing to… inform them that there IS a sanctuary?”

Jean Luc and Xavier held one another’s gaze for a long time. And then Jean Luc bobbed his head. “Oui… I can do dat.”

“Finding us will be difficult. I won’t lie about that.” Xavier admitted. “We must keep the castle a secret.”

“How dey supposed t’ find y’, den?”

“We have set up a code.” Xavier smiled. “There are people on the road… some in the towns… who are trusted. They will offer shelter to those traveling to find us.”

And he plucked up a twig from a pile of kindling, and drew in the soft earth… a circle, and then an X inside of it.

“Anyone seeking us, will find this somewhere on the door frame of a place that is safe for them. For someone who can give them directions on where to go next. But to have this assistance extended to them, they must present their own… sign.”

“An’ dat is?”

“A double code.” Xavier told him. “Warren?”

The young exiled Lord Worthington dug into his belt pouch and pulled out what appeared to be one of his own feathers. There was a black X with a ring around it, painted on the white feather.

“The symbol tells us that this person is a mutant seeking sanctuary. And the object it is painted on tells us who sent them. This tells us that the individual seeking us was sent by Warren.” He returned the feather, which Warren slipped back into his pack. “Only other mutants can refer one another to us. And we know their calling cards. You must come up with one for us to recognize as someone having been sent to us by Remy.”

“… I’ll ask him in de mornin’…” Jean Luc smiled with a nod. “A good code.”

The next few days went by pleasantly. Remy and Jean, though a bit awkward around one another now, tried to build a friendship… little ten year old Remy had actually faced down a sixteen year old Scott Summers at one point, threatening to remove his head if he didn’t protect “his Stormy”… Scott, though taken aback, had managed to smile and assure the boy that he would, and the pair solemnly shook on it, though Scott had been chuckling about it after Remy went on his way. Every night was story time with Hank, who had managed to become much loved by all of the children.

Xavier seemed pleased by how much Bobby was coming out of his shell, suddenly surrounded by people who didn’t fear him, or his mutation… though he did get walloped by a woman with a broom for accidentally freezing her laundry…

Warren kept to himself and his companions... exiled though he was, he had been raised an aristocrat, and obviously thought little of the Romani…

And at the end of their travelling stint together, Remy ran up to Xavier as the man was mounting his horse.

“Here!” The boy cried, and held something up. It was a playing card… an Ace of Spades. With a circle with an X drawn on it.

“Dis be Remy’s card!” And the boy gave him a grin and a wink. Xavier chuckled at the cheeky little fellow and accepted the card. 

“I think that will work out fine, my young friend. A playing card. Yes. I think it’s perfect.”

“An’ y’ gon’ bring m’ Stormy to visit, oui?”

“Do NOT call me Stormy.” The girl said with a little smile, from where she sat perched on the horse behind Jean, while Bobby once again rode behind Scott.

“Indeed, my young friend.” Xavier nodded. “Every spring, we will meet you on your route for a few days.”

“Bon…” Remy nodded, then shrieked as he was snatched up in big, furry blue arms and tickled. “Non, non! Mettez-moi! Mettez-moi! Put Remy down!”

Chuckling, McCoy did so, ruffling the child’s hair, and grinning when the boy hugged him around his middle. “You be good for your papa, my little friend.”

“Pfft!” Remy scoffed, and Jean Luc rolled his eyes.

“I believe that you very well may be a, how is it said? Un petit diable blanc?” McCoy asked. Remy blinked up at him with wide eyes, and then put on a devilish grin.

“Oui.” He said with a firm nod.

“Oh… wonderful.” Jean Luc drawled, rolling his eyes. “Y’all get de hell outta here befo’ y’ start givin’ de boy ideas!”

“Too late, papa! Already got ideas, me!”

“Baise-moi…” Jean Luc groaned, running a hand down his face, and making Remy laugh at his papa’s curse.

“Goodbye, my friends.” McCoy waved, mounting his horse, and Warren took to the air with great sweeps of his wings.

“Au revoir!” Remy called, waving as they guided their horses away. “Je taime, Stormy! Remy gon’ miss y’!”

“Do NOT call me Stormy!”

The last sound that the travelers heard, was of the delighted laugh of little Remy LeBeau…


	9. Chapter 9

The first time Jean Luc took Remy with him into a town was one of the best days of Remy’s young life. The spring festival of the small city was in full swing, and Remy was beyond excited to ride into town sitting before his papa, in the parade that declared the beginning of the festival. It was also the first time that Remy had seen this new family of his perform. They were all dressed in such bright colors with necklaces and bangles and jingling decorative coins… He had seen them get dressed before, and had watched them depart and come home, but this was Remy’s first time riding with them. 

His Tante Mattie had surprised him with new clothes. Brand new black boots of a soft leather to allow for silent mobility that came up to his knees… billowing trousers that were striped vertically with black and red, and a crimson sash wound around his waist, embellished with little gold coins. His tunic was a clean white that hung open halfway down his chest, and Jean Luc had taken one of the many loops from his own neck, and draped one around Remy’s; it was a black cord with a rough chunk of a blood red stone hanging from it, that fell almost down to Remy’s belly. He wore a black vest, and a black scarf tied around his head, stretching across his brow with his auburn hair spilling out over it. Jean Luc had braided his hair down his back and tied it off with a leather thong before kissing his nose and lifting him onto the horse.

Now, Jean Luc was grinning as he watched his son before him, turning his head this way and that, trying to see everything at once. When he turned his head, Jean Luc could see the wide grin, and though Remy had been working on controlling his empathy, Jean Luc could FEEL the boy’s delight. Remy never even noticed the small handful of times that someone in the crowd managed to get a good look at his eyes… a couple of times, Jean Luc saw a person gasp and Cross themselves, and a couple of times, people put their heads together and spoke quietly, their eyes on Remy. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around his son and held him close…

Jean Luc never got used to the gut-wrenching fear for his child’s safety that a parent had… this need to protect the young life with anything and everything he had. Even when he had taken the boy in, he had no idea just how precious he would be. In a mere six months, Remy had become the center of his world, and his reason for living.

“Can I, Papa?!”

He blinked himself back into awareness and looked down at Remy, who had tipped his head back to look up at the man.

“Desole, mon fils… say dat again?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“Can I go?” Remy asked again, pointing. Several of the children were tumbling on the little temporary stage that had been erected in the town’s square, performing for the crowd. Jean Luc’s eyes widened slightly and his smile disappeared, even as his arm around Remy tightened.

“S’il t’ plait, papa?!” Remy begged. Inside, Jean Luc panicked.

“Ey, boss.” He turned and blinked. Olivier and Andre were there, and Andre was giving him a knowing grin. “He gon’ be wit’ de ot’er kids… an’ we gon’ stay wit’ dem an’ keep an eye on t’ings, oui?”

“Oui!” Henri nodded emphatically, joining them. 

“PLEASE, papa?!” Remy whined.

Jean Luc agonized, but slowly loosened his hold and nodded. Remy was immediately sliding off of the horse and running towards the children, only to be tackled by Henri, who scooped him up with a laughing “An’ where d’you t’ink y’ be goin’ so fast, y’ little devil?!” And Remy shrieked and thrashed when he was tickled. Henri set him down and Remy broke into a run, Andre chasing closely after him. And then Remy fell into the group of Romani children, who greeted him enthusiastically, and with their loud and boisterous encouragement, he and one of the older boys were back flipping down the length of the stage.

“Look at ‘im…” 

Jean Luc blinked and turned, looking at Mattie who had reined her horse to a stop beside him. “He be feedin’ on de emotions in de crowd, Jean Luc. Can’t y’ see it?” And she gave the man a shrewd, knowing grin. “Surrounded by all de joy, an’ excitement… Can only imagine what it must feel like, oui? If feelin’ de bad emotions around him make him feel bad, makes sense dat he wanna bask in dis… take it all in?”

“… Guess so.”

“Look how happy he is.”

“Can feel it, me.” Jean Luc smiled. “He ain’t able t’ hold dat back t’day…”

“Savor dat.” Mattie said, urging her hose forwards again, calling over her shoulder, “how many men can actually FEEL how happy his child be?”

Jean Luc stared after her for a moment in surprise, before he turned his attention back to Remy. Olivier and Andre were on the stage now, their hands interlinked as they knelt facing each other. Remy was on one side of them, and one of the older boys on the other. The older boy was grinning a nodding, and with a grin, Remy broke into a run and stepped up into Andre and Henri’s hands, and they launched him into the air. Jean Luc’s eyebrows shot up as he watched his son flip forwards gracefully, and then land with his feet on the other boy’s shoulders. The other boy, grinning, grabbed Remy’s ankles to steady him as the crowd cheered.

Jean Luc wondered when the hell they had taught Remy THAT… And then Remy took a leaping backflip off of the other boy, and landed lightly, laughing as several of the other children tackled him and complimented his successful little stunt. And then he grinned as Henri scooped him up in a strong hug, before setting him back onto his feet, and the two brothers stood back and cheered as some of the other children amused the crowd with their acrobatic antics.

As the day went on, Jean Luc relaxed, but he still frequently checked on Remy. True to their word, Andre, Olivier and Henri stayed close, and at lunch time, Jean Luc spotted them on the edge of a rooftop, observing the crowd as they ate something from earthenware mugs, with Remy happily perched between the two teachers on one side, and his brother on the other, pointing things out and chattering away. Andre had caught Jean Luc’s eye, grinned and winked.

But Jean Luc, ever the protective Papa, made note of every nervous look that the townsfolk shot at the demon eyed boy… He wasn’t sure how, but Remy seemed blissfully unaware.

That day brought another first… for the first time, Remy LeBeau, was tired. As the first day of the festival came to a close, Jean Luc smiled when his son, instead of flying at him at top speed and leaping upon him, toddled up to him and lifted his arms, silently asking to be picked up. Startled, Jean Luc could only obey the silent command, lifting Remy up onto the horse before him. And there, Remy curled up into his chest, sighed and closed his eyes. Jean Luc was surprised, but obediently turned his horse around and headed back to camp.

As he went, they were joined by several others, and nearly every single member of the troupe made a double take and stared at Remy in amazement.

“… I be damned!” Andre gasped. “He DO get tired!!!” And Jean Luc could only shrug as he felt the worry rise… the only time he had ever seen Remy like this was when the boy had been sick over winter, and he worried that his son had taken ill. As they entered camp, several others expressed their amazement at the sight of Remy dozing against his papa’s chest, and Jean Luc immediately guided his horse to Mattie at the main fire, dismounting and hurrying over.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, seeing his worried look, and Remy limp in his arms.

“He just… went t’ sleep!” Jean Luc gasped, laying Remy down on the ground before the fire. Remy grumbled, cracking open an eye.

“Papaaaa…” He whined softly as Mattie immediately knelt and pushed his scarf off of his head, pressing the back of her hand to his brow, feeling for fever.

“How y’ feel, Remy, child?” She asked, gently.

“Sleepy…” Remy grumbled, pushing her hands away. 

“Any aches o’ pains?” She asked, peeling up an eyelid and looking at his eyes, making him fuss again, assuring her that his feet and legs were achy from his day, but nothing else. “Y’ feel sick?” She asked, pressing his stomach.

“Jus’ tired, me! Arrete ca! Let Remy sleep!” The boy whined loudly, fending off her hands. Mattie sat back with a huff, and Henri was starting to grin now.

“Wit’out dinner?” She asked.

“Jus’ wan’ sleep, me!” Remy complained. Jean Luc looked at her, still concerned.

“Put de boy t’ bed.” She sighed, and after a moment, Jean Luc scooped Remy up and carried him to their wagon. He helped the tired little boy undress and wash up a bit with a cloth and a bucket of water, and then helped him up into his bunk. Remy flopped face down, buried his head into his pillow and let out a long sigh, drifting off even as his papa tucked him in, kissing his cheek and stroking his hair. 

Then Jean Luc headed out to the main fire for dinner.

“I t’ink de boy be fine.” Mattie told him, handing him a bowl of food.

“Dat ain’t like him,” Jean Luc argued, frowning. “Dat boy ain’t NEVER tired!”

“Oui…” Mattie nodded, as several other Romani around the fire chuckled in agreement with Jean Luc. “But de boy also ain’t neve’ been in a festival like dat all day… not since he started gettin’ his mutant powers.”

“Y’ t’ink it’s his empathy?”

“I do… Don’t t’ink he’s physically tired, Jean Luc. I t’ink he’s EMOTIONALLY exhausted.”

Jean Luc cocked his head as he chewed, contemplating this. He looked at Henri, questioningly, and his grown son shrugged and said “Miracles do happen, non?” Jean Luc snorted at that, smiling slightly.

“Oui… Guess dat do make sense… OW!” He mused, and then yelped when Mattie whacked him on the head with a ladle. 

“O’ course it makes sense! Now eat y’ dinner.” She commanded, and then whirled to glare at the men chuckling at their Rom Baro. They all immediately became very interested in their dinner.

In the morning, despite how tired he had been the previous night, Remy was up and awake and ready to go by the time Jean Luc dragged himself from his bunk. He intentionally dragged his feet as he got ready for the day, amused by Remy’s increasing frustration.

“Boy, go see t’ Brouillard, an’ den we go!” Jean Luc finally laughed, virtually kicking Remy out the door of their wagon. And when he himself finally emerged, he was amused to find that Remy had saddled up Voleur for him. Chuckling, Jean Luc grabbed Remy and hoisted him up onto the horse, and then swung his leg over and settled behind him. 

“Dat excited, mon fils?” Jean Luc asked, and Remy nodded his head eagerly.

“Oui, papa!”

“What y’ like about it?”

“Everyt’ing!” Remy exclaimed as Jean Luc guided his horse towards the town, and his papa laughed and stroked his hair. 

“Dere’s a lot t’ take in…” Jean Luc acquiesced. “De sights, de sounds, de smells… de emotions?” And he looked down at Remy.

“Oui…” The child breathed, nodding. “Can feel dem all around. So many… so happy!”

“Y’ like dat, oui?”

“Mais oui! Makes REMY feel happy! Mo’ happy dan I ever felt, me! Like Remy… soak it up!”

“Did it make y’ tired?”

“Oui…” Remy admitted, huffing and blowing some hair out of his eyes. Jean Luc smiled and smoothed his son’s hair back out of his face. “Was too much… like… when y’ eat too much an’ y’ feel slow an’ heavy an’ sleepy… an’ jus’ too FULL!” Remy tried to explain, rubbing a hand over his tummy. Jean Luc nodded, absorbing every word. He could never truly understand, but he wanted to understand as much as he could, if only to better help his son as these powers grew.

“Well… may be best dat y’ work on blockin’ out de emotions aroun’ y’ t’day, mon fils.”

“Pfft!!! Mais non, papa!” Remy laughed. “Like be when y’ eat too much! Y’ stomach ache an’ y’ regret it, but y’know dat ain’t gon’ stop y’ from doin’ it again, oui?”

Several people looked up when Jean Luc guided his horse through the gates and into town, roaring with laughter.

“Now, Remy…?” Jean Luc said as he drew his horse to a halt outside of the tavern and dismounted, tying him up. Remy blinked down at him and Jean Luc continued, “don’t go anywhere o’ do anyt’ing wit’out me o’ another man in de troupe, d’accord?”

“What?! Mais, de ot’ers get to—“

“De ot’ers been doin’ dis fo’ years, Remy. Dey know de rules, dey know what dey can an’ can’t do… an’… an’ dey don’t…” He trailed off for a moment.

“Dey ain’t Le Diable Blanc.” Remy said simply. He didn’t sound angry or resentful. He just stated it as a fact. Jean Luc sighed and reached up, pushing Remy’s hair back and staring into those black and red eyes.

“… Oui.” He whispered, nodding. “Desole, mon fils… Y’ papa worries. Maybe too much.” He smiled slightly. “Would kill me, if anyt’ing happened t’ you. Wanna be sure you be okay b’fore I turn y’ loose… Gon’ take a bit more trainin’ fo’ dat… Can y’ understand? O’ at leas’ humor dis ol’ man?” Remy smiled and reached down, sliding off of the horse. Jean Luc held him tight as Remy hugged him around the neck.

“Je taime, papa…” Remy sighed, Jean Luc kissed his hair.

“Je taime aussi, Remy…” And he set the child down on the ground. Remy smiled up at him.

“Remy go wit’ you t’day, papa?”

“… Y’ want to?” Jean Luc asked. Remy beamed up at him, and closed his little fingers around the man’s hand.

“Oui.” Remy nodded, clasping his hand tightly. Jean Luc grinned.

“Alright den…” He nodded. “Let’s go…”

And the pair spent all day together. In the morning, Jean Luc just enjoyed the festival with his son, who had never been able to truly enjoy one before… There were games, new foods the child had never tried before, and all sorts of wares being sold and bartered. Remy delighted in listening to his papa haggle with the merchants around town, or charm some of the female ones… of course, a few had been too wise for even Jean Luc’s charms, and told him off, though they parted with laughter after he switched to haggling. And Remy absorbed it all, admiring his papa and wanting so much to be just like him when he grew up…

Trying to mimic his papa, Remy amused the man beyond belief when he haggled for their lunch, and got them some bread for free out of it. Of course, Jean Luc pressed an extra coin into the hand of the woman and thanked her for humoring his son… and for not recoiling at his eyes. She looked like she had wanted to ask him about it, but she refrained, and for that, he was grateful.

After lunch, the pair rested on the soft spring grass at the base of a tree, to watch the people dancing. Remy dozed off leaning against his papa, but once he had woken, Jean Luc decided to face his anxieties and get things over with.

“Alright, mon fils…” He said, stroking Remy’s hair. “I’m gon’ sit here an’ watch. Want YOU t’ work de crowd…”

“… Y’ mean…?” Remy murmured, his wide eyes darting down to his papa’s purse.

“Oui. Y’ passed all de tests… time t’ put de skills to use.” Jean Luc told him, and Remy slowly turned and looked at the crowd. “Y’ be nervous!” Jean Luc exclaimed then, when he got a little niggle in his mind… he had been learning to recognize when the feeling was Remy, and when it was genuinely his own. He looked down at the child beside him, and Remy frowned and worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Remy?” Jean Luc prompted. “What’s wrong? Y’ ain’t an amateur. You been doin’ dis f’ years b’fo’ I—“

“Y’ caught me.” Remy blurted.

“… I did.” Jean Luc stated. When Remy said nothing, Jean Luc sighed and tugged the boy over. Jean Luc was leaning against the tree, with his legs stretched out before him, but now he bent his knees and brought them up a bit. He moved Remy to straddle his thighs, and pushed him back to sit his bottom down on his papa’s knees, bringing them eye to eye. Their palms were pressed together, and Jean Luc watched Remy study his own little hand against his papa’s broad palm, took in how much longer his papa’s fingers were than his own. And then, Remy slid his hands up and they interlaced fingers, holding on to each other.

“… Remy? Look at me, fils…” Jean Luc said in a gentle tone, and Remy obeyed. “What’s wrong?”

“… What if… Remy get caught?” The child whispered.

“Den I be right dere t’ help y’…” The man said. “If y’ get into trouble, y’ papa gon’ get y’ out, d’accord?” Remy lowered his eyes and nervously chewed his lip again. “Remy?”

“… Don’t wanna…” Remy began, before trailing off. And then he whispered, so softly that Jean Luc almost didn’t catch it, “don’t wanna make y’ mad at Remy…”

“Y’ won’t. Even if y’ get caught. I won’t get mad, Remy. Je promets…”

“Wanna make y’ proud…” Remy admitted. Jean Luc smiled, reaching out and catching the boy’s chin in his hand.

“Y’ do, Remy. All I gotta do is look at you, an’ I be more proud dan I ever been b’fo’… Never knew what pride meant, ‘til I took y’ into my life, Remy. Y’ ain’t gon’ disappoint y’ papa, boy. Ever. If y’ get caught… an’ if y’ feel y’ papa be upset?” Remy gave him a nervous glance, “it be b’cause y’ papa know YOU be upset. When you’re upset, I’m upset. All I want is fo’ my son t’ be happy. An’ proud of himself. Dat’s all…” Remy blinked, and then slid down the man’s legs, landing in his lap, and he wrapped his arms around his papa’s neck.

“Je taime, Papa…” 

“Je taime aussi, Remy…” He smiled, hugging the boy tightly before lifting him out of his lap and setting him on his feet. “G’on now… show y’ Rom Baro what y’ can do!” Remy blinked, and then smiled before turning and darting into the crowd, melting in amongst them with ease.

For the next hour or so, Jean Luc’s keen eyes followed his son through the throngs of people. Only twice did he actually see the boy’s deft fingers snag a purse. And then, he watched his son come across a little girl, only a year or so younger than himself, looking near tears as she held her mother’s hand. Jean Luc watched as Remy stared at the girl, and then moved over to a little corner where a woman was standing, with a basket of fresh, spring flowers. He saw Remy pass over a coin, and the smiling woman handed him a yellow daffodil and a red tulip. Remy made his way through the crowd and over to the little girl, who actually had tears on her cheeks now; what had upset her, Jean Luc had no idea. But he watched his Remy walk straight up to her, all smiles, and offer the flowers. 

The girl and her mother both looked startled, but after a little nod from her mother, the girl reached out, and accepted the flowers. Jean Luc felt a grin stretch across his face when she began to smile, and turned bright pink when his son took her hand, bowed and pressed a little kiss to her knuckle. Then a startled look came across the girl’s face, and she looked up at her mother again. The woman looked hesitant, but after a moment, she nodded and said something to her daughter. And then the girl let go of her mother’s hand and Remy was tugging her away by the other hand. And then, still holding the one hand, Remy turned to face her placed a hand on her waist, and the children moved in with the other folk, dancing around the square.

Within moments, they spun past, and Jean Luc was grinning at the little girl’s sparkling eyes, flushed cheeks and bright laughter. The music was bright and joyful, but the laughter of the children could be heard over it, and drew several smiles, and the attention of other children. Before anyone knew it, there was another pair of children, a little bit younger, and then another two pairs, a bit older. And then, quickly, the adults had surrendered the space and backed off, laughing and clapping along with the music as the children, villager and Romani both, filled the square.

The Villager children danced a bit more conservatively, mimicking what they knew from their parents. The Romani children danced with drama and flair, their broad knowledge of dances from many a region shining through. And Remy was right in the thick of it, staying loyal to his dance partner, though a couple of other girls from the village attempted to cut in as he showed his dance partner some of the more fancy moves of the gypsies. The little girl looked beyond pleased, enjoying the dancing, and the envious looks of her friends.

Jean Luc, attempting something that he and Remy had been working on, but had never tested in a crowd, sent a feeling of pride to his son. Remy’s steps faltered for a moment, but then he turned and looked his papa in the eye, sending him a delighted grin, and feelings of happiness, joy and fun right back. Jean Luc nodded, acknowledging that he had received them. Beyond delighted, Remy threw his head back and laughed as he spun his partner around, nearly toppling them both and leaving the girl shrieking with laughter.

And that evening found Jean Luc riding back to camp with an exhausted child, dozing on his chest again. But he was in good company this time… several other members of the troupe were riding back with their children in similar conditions…

Mattie got Remy washed up and Jean Luc saw him tucked into bed, and then headed out to the bonfire, to join the others. He blinked when he noticed them all staring at him as he approached.

“What is it?” He asked, feeling a tightening in his gut, though it loosened a bit when he saw Henri appeared to be trying not to laugh.

“Y’ seen dis?” Mattie asked him, looking down at an area on the ground that everyone seemed to be interested in. Jean Luc moved in closer and stepped over the log that they were using as a long bench. There, spread out on the ground before the fire, was money. A lot of money. And several articles of jewelry and other little baubles of some value.

“What’s dis?” Jean Luc asked.

“Got dis outta y’ son’s pockets.” Mattie told him, and Jean Luc’s eyebrows shot up.

“Y’ had de boy workin’ de crowd?” Andre asked, as Henri began to snigger behind his hand.

“… Oui…” Jean Luc nodded, speechless.

“Did y’ not tell ‘im t’ take it easy an’ be discrete?!” Mattie asked. 

“… non… he was so nervous… only saw ‘im pick two pockets…”

“Dis be a LOT mo’ dan two.” Olivier snored, and Jaques ran a hand through his hair as he fixed a look on his Rom Baro that was both of amusement, and concern.

“Dis gon’ be hard t’ cover up, boss… dat be a LOT o’ stuff t’ go missin’! Dey gonna notice! An’ dey gonna look at US!”

“… merde… had no idea, me…” Jean Luc breathed. And then, suddenly, he began to laugh.

“… Dis ain’t funny, Jean Luc!” Mattie cried, affixing a look of disbelief on the man, and then glaring at Henri who was now laughing with his father.

“He was afraid he’d disappoint me!” Jean Luc exclaimed, running his hand through his hair. “Merde… ain’t never seen no one, specially a child, bring in a haul like dis in one day!”

“Dis ain’t funny!” Several gypsies shouted.

“Had no idea he’d do DIS, me!” Jean Luc exclaimed, waving a hand at the haul.

“No offense, boss…” Andre snorted. “But dat boy o’ yours be a damned menace!”

Jean Luc sighed, now rubbing his chin as he said “Guess I gotta take Remy in t’ town tomorrow fo’ new lessons…” He admitted, and began to gather up the stolen goods. “… How t’ not be noticed, givin’ back what y’ done took!”

“Better teach him de meanin’ o’ de word ‘restraint’, too…” Mattie huffed.

“Good luck wit’ dat! OW!” Henri quipped, only for Mattie to whack him on the head with a spoon.

“Shut up, boy!”


	10. Chapter 10

Spring was on its last legs, and summer was moving in. Jean Luc had managed to teach Remy how to return things he had stolen, when he got a bit carried away, and also ended up giving the child a limit on how many pockets he picked each day. 

In a larger city, Remy was brought along on his very first burglary… His papa had explained that the lord of the particular manor they were going to rob had been building a reputation of being a cruel, greedy man. When Remy had asked, “won’t he know it was us?”, Jean Luc explained that several gypsy clans were in and out of town at all times… he would never be able to pin it on any one clan. That night, the group that went in to rob the man learned to appreciate a part of Remy’s mutation that they had previously taken for granted; his keen night vision. 

Remy was able to make things out that they couldn’t, and he demonstrated adept skill at picking the locks on several doors, all moving in well practiced stealth, that made Jean Luc incredibly proud. In fact, that night, the troupe celebrated Remy’s first burglary with a party at the camp, congratulating the boy on a job well done, and possibly finding a new specialty for him.

And when they headed out, Jean Luc seemed particularly happy. The further they got, the more Remy eyed his papa. After four days on the road, Mattie and Jean Luc blinked when Remy did a silly little backflip off of the roof of the wagon to land on the driver’s bench between the two.

“Alrigh’…” He said. “Whatcha hidin’ from Remy?” 

Jean Luc blinked, startled, and looked down at his son. Mattie just grinned.

“Told y’, homme.” She chuckled, glancing at Jean Luc.

“Y’ told ‘im what, Tante?” Remy demanded, now swiveling his head around to look at her.

“Nuh uh, petit diable. Talk t’ y’ papa.”

“Papaaaaa!” Remy whined loudly, turning and looking up at the man, who was shooting Mattie looks. “Whatcha not tellin’ Remy?!”

“Not’in’, fils.” Jean Luc said lightly, and Remy scowled.

“… Can feel y’ be lyin’…” The boy grumbled, glaring.

“Boy, keep dat empathy t’ yo’self!” Jean Luc scolded, trying not to laugh.

“S’il tu plait, papa…?” Remy asked, fixing large eyes on the man. 

Slowly, Jean Luc felt something. Something warm. It made him turn his head, and look down at Remy. And he felt himself begin to melt a bit, filling with adoration for this little boy staring up at him, earnestly… he felt a desire to… listen to this boy. To tell him… he felt a need to earn his approval, and happiness and love and—

“BOY!!! You cut dat out!” Mattie snapped suddenly, rapping Remy on the head.

“OW!!!” Remy yelped, clapping his hands down onto his head and glaring at her. “What was dat for?!”

“Jean Luc!” Mattie said, ignoring Remy. “Don’t y’ let dat boy’s charm get de best o’ you!”

“Dat hurt, Tante!”

“Stop manipulatin’ y’ papa.”

“Didn’t mean to, me!” Remy whined, and Jean Luc chuckled.

“Calm down, Remy.” The man said, putting an arm around his son, who snuggled into his side and shot Mattie wounded looks, making her tut and roll her eyes at his dramatics.

“So… what y’ hidin’?” Remy asked.

“Y’ ain’t gon’ drop it, are y’?” Jean Luc asked.

“Mais non, papa.” Remy said firmly.

“Alrigh’, alright’… Y’ find out tomorrow.” Jean Luc said, and laughed at Remy’s frustrated groan.

For the rest of the day, Jean Luc found himself tickled at his son’s frustration. And not just with him… Remy was beside himself to learn that the entire TROUPE was in on this secret!!! He had a headache by bed time, from Mattie whacking him on the head when he tried to push with his abilities to get someone to tell him. But they actually managed to keep it a secret.

The next afternoon, Remy was riding on Minuit, the mare calmly following Jean Luc’s wagon, which she was tethered to. He was sprawled out on her back on his chest, his legs hanging down on either side of her, facing her tail. He had a stick with a string on it, with a carrot on the end, and little Brouillard trotted after his dam, eagerly trying to get the carrot as Remy talked to him.

But then, Remy heard the chatter of the gypsies pick up. He sat up and twisted around. They had crested a hill, and in the valley was…

“Mon Dieu…” Remy gasped, sliding off of Minuit, giving Brouillard the carrot and then scrambling up onto the wagon as it trundled along. On the roof, he stared down.

“Papa! What’s dat?!” Remy gasped, eyes wide. Jean Luc just grinned.

The valley was full of color and movement! There were wagons, people, horses… it was full of gypsies!

“Our annual get t’gether.” Jean Luc said. “Dey come from all over. From de nort’, de east… speak different languages… We trade. Goods, knowledge… make friends…” Remy moved to sit between his papa and tante, and they felt his excitement grow as they descended into the valley and he began to pick up on the emotions of the people. And then they were in the middle of the action. People were walking about, talking and shouting and laughing, waving and calling out greetings to the new arrivals.

They made their way to a large open area and began to set up camp. But Remy was surprised when his papa pulled him away from his chores.

“Come wit’ me.” He said to his son, taking his hand. “Dere’s someone I want y’ t’ meet.” 

Remy nodded silently and allowed his papa to lift him onto Voleur, and then the Rom Baro guided the bay stallion through the large camp. They passed by two other troupes, one of which Remy found strange… they had strange eyes, slanted and narrow, and their language was so unusual to his ears…

“Dey come from far t’ de east.” Jean Luc told his son. “De Orient. Dey bring silks an’ spices an dyes fo’ us t’ take back west when we head dat way. Y’ get t’ meet dem later. We lookin’ for a tribe o’ Germanics. Dey come from de nort’west. An’ dere be a boy wit’ dem I t’ink y’ need t’ meet.”

“Porquoi?”

“You’ll see,” Jean Luc smiled, and guided them into the middle of a camp, smiling and waving and responding to greetings. After a moment, he reined his horse to a stop as a thickly built man with a long, wild beard approached. He flung his arms out and boomed a greeting in a strange tongue, and Remy was instantly reminded of Gerard back at the Winter Village…

Jean Luc dismounted his horse and met the man, the pair embracing. “Aldric!”

“Jean Luc! You look vell!”

“I am quite well, merci.” He said. 

“… You’re holding somezing back…”

“Well… I be a father now. Adopted a boy, me!”

“Wunderbar! Herlzliche gluckwunsche, mein freund!!!”

“Merci…” Jean Luc chuckled at the loud man. “Is Kurt about? Want m’ son t’ meet ‘im, me.”

Immediately, the man before him transformed. The twinkle in his eyes were extinguished, and his jolly demeanor became hard and dangerous. “Wieso den?” He growled. “Zat boy iz not a freak to be gawked at…”

Jean Luc smiled and chuckled, and the man narrowed his eyes. Jean Luc turned and lifted Remy from the horse and set him down, stroking his hair, then turning back to the Germanic Rom Baro. “Aldric… meet m’ son, Remy.”

Aldric still glared at Jean Luc, but he softened and had a kindly tone when he held out his hand and said “Vell met, Remy LeBeau.” Remy accepted his hand and looked up at the man, and Jean Luc brushed his hair back, revealing his eyes. Aldric’ hand tightened around Remy’s, and he uttered a soft gasp. “Mein Gott…” He breathed, and then a little smile crossed his features. “Vell met indeed, my boy…”

And then he looked at Jean Luc, that twinkle rekindled in his eye, and gave him a brusque nod before he turned, his eyes scanning the camp.

“… Wagner?!” He roared, and Remy grinned to himself. Jean Luc blinked at the wave of amusement he felt from his son, and he gave him a questioning look.

“Gerard.” Remy said simply, as Aldric thundered “Kurt?!” Jean Luc blinked, and then chuckled, shaking his head at his son.

“NIGHTCRAWLER!!!” Remy jumped at that impressive bellow, making his papa’s chuckles expand into laughter.

“JA!!!” They heard from a short distance away, and then Remy saw it… 

A small, lithe body was nearly flying over the tops of the Germanic troupe’s wagons, in beautiful acrobatics that Remy could barely believe were even possible. His mouth fell open in admiration of the movements, and then, as the figure came closer… he saw the tail.

“Mon Dieu…” He gasped, as the boy, Kurt, flipped effortlessly off of the nearest wagon and landed lightly, scampering over.

“Ja?” He asked. 

“Kurt… I vant you to meet someone… You remember Jean Luc LeBeau?”

“Ja…” Kurt nodded, turning his bright yellow eyes onto the man and grinning, showing sharp teeth. Remy just gaped, taking in the dark blue-black fur that covered the boy from head to toe.

“Pleasure t’ see y’ ‘gain, Kurt.” Jean Luc smiled, offering his hand. Kurt took it, and Remy stared at the three fingers… And then saw that the boy was barefooted, and had three toes… But his attention kept going back to the tail… it was constantly moving.

“Kurt… want y’ t’ meet m’ son… Dis is Remy.”

Remy snapped to attention then, looking Kurt in the eye. Kurt’s eyes widened then as he took in Remy’s black and red eyes. Jean Luc was still smiling. “Y’ ain’t de only one folk mistake fo’ a demon…” He said, and Remy offered the boy a smile, and his hand.

“Bonjour…” He said, and after a moment, Kurt took his hand, with a little smile. “Dey used t’ call Remy Le Diable Blanc… when Remy was on de streets…” Kurt blinked.

“It means Ze Vhite Devil.” Aldric explained, and Kurt blinked. “Das Weißer Teufel...“ Kurt’s eyes widened.

“I see… you are a mutant, zen? Like me?”

“Oui.” Remy nodded, and now the pair were grinning at each other. Then, without warning, Remy blurted “Can y’ show Remy how y’ do all dat stuff ‘cross de wagons?! Dat was REALLY good!”

“I do not know!” Kurt beamed. “Part of my being a mutant… but I can try!” And then the boys were off and running, scrabbling up onto the nearest wagon and were soon on their acrobatic way. Aldric just blinked, while Jean Luc chuckled, turning and looking at the man and saying “t’ink endless energy be a part o’ dat boy’s mutation, me…” Aldric blinked, and then let out a low chuckle, that turned into a booming laugh when Jean Luc added, “bed time be a nightmare.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The friendship between Remy and Kurt developed just as quickly as it had appeared to… The boys took to one another right away, and met up every morning to talk and play. Jean Luc’s troupe quickly grew to like the strange little demonic looking child, and Remy had charmed Kurt’s troupe in next to no time… Several of the little girls had taken to trying to get his attention, but they were not nearly as interesting to Remy as Kurt was. The pair were often chasing each other around the gathering grounds, leaping over the wagons, flying through the trees, sometimes spying in on the strange, Oriental troupe… 

The Oriental troupe found them amusing, once they got over their initial shock at the boys’ appearances, and the next thing Jean Luc knew, Remy had managed to convince one of the men there to show him the strange, but beautiful fighting style from the far eastern lands. Kurt wasn’t as interested, but he enjoyed watching and encouraging his new friends. Through the boys, the Oriental troupe began to forge stronger ties with the French and Germanic troupes, and interact with them much beyond their usual bartering.

One night, while most of the troupes laughed and talked and ate and danced around the giant bonfire in the center of camp, Remy and Kurt hung back, perched on the low branch of a tree, watching the festivities as they talked.

“Remy’s mere,” Remy explained, “mother, she was burned as a witch when Remy was born… fo’ birthin’ a devil child… De church raised Remy… lived in de barn, me, cuz de son o’ Lucifer couldn’t stay in de church itself. Tried t’ exorcise de evil outta Remy almos’ every day… finally ran ‘way just b’fo’ I turned six, me. Lived on de streets since den. Papa caught me pickin’ his pocket an’ took me in… dey was gonna… kill Remy…”

Kurt nodded. “I too vas raised in a church. I vas kept zere as a reminder to ze brothers in ze monastery of ze evil in ze vorld… I vas not allowed to leave ze monastery, or to be seen by anyone but ze brothers. Some of zem were kind to me, some vere not… But ze gypsies came every year… And zey knew about me. I know not how. I liked to vatch zem dance and perform… And zen, one night, some of ze villagers saw me watching from a rooftop. Zey attacked me… Even now, I cannot remember exactly vhat happened, but ze gypsies took me and protected me and fled… I have been vith zem for two years now. And ve have never gone back to ze village or ze monastery… My new family fears for my safety if ve vere to return.” 

Kurt turned and looked at Remy. “Vill you go back? To vhere you lived before?”

“… Je ne sais… Don’t know, me…” Remy admitted, and the pair simply settled down in silence together. 

It was a ten day stretch of fun for all the troupes that had gathered… everyone was swapping news, stories, goods, and there were even four weddings, in which one gypsy wed someone from another troupe. Those who had wed into another troupe previously were now seeing their families again… One such young couple, the Lees, with the Oriental troupe, was pleased to introduce their little toddler, Jubilation, to the mother’s troupe from Scandanavia… they weren’t able to make it to the gathering every year…

Remy had learned so much over the ten days… his acrobatics had improved dramatically, when he faced the challenge of Kurt’s incredible abilities… Remy strived to push himself hard enough to get to be that good someday... he was not ready when the day came for the troupes to head out…

Jean Luc allowed his son to run off to say goodbye to his new friend as the Germanic wagons trundled away.

When Kurt saw him coming, he hurried to meet him, and the pair hugged tightly.

“Take dis…” Remy said, and offered him something. Kurt accepted it, and stared down at the little Jack of Diamonds, with an X in a circle painted on it.

“Vhat is zis?”

“If y’ ever need a safe place t’ go…” Remy said softly, “if bein’ wit’ y’ people ain’t safe anymore… dat can lead y’ to a place dat be safe fo’ people like us…”

“Mutants?”

“Oui… A castle. De lord be a man called Charles Xavier. An’ he’s like us… De place is hidden. Y’ gotta look fo’ places with dat,” he pointed at the circle around the X, “carved into it… an’ when y’ find one, someone be dere t’ tell y’ where t’ go… a secret trail. But y’ gotta show dis card t’ get de help…”

“Danke, mein freund…” Kurt nodded, tucking the card into his belt pouch. “It iz good to know zat zhere is somevhere to go, should ze vorst happen…”

Remy nodded, and then the pair hugged each other tightly.

“See y’ next year?” Remy asked, his heart feeling tight and achy.

“Ja!” Kurt nodded with a grin. “Next year! Be safe! Auf wiedersehen!!!” And he scampered off and scrambled onto the last wagon, waving at his friend until they disappeared around the bend…

Jean Luc smiled and walked up to Remy, hearing his deep sigh and seeing his shoulders droop. He put an arm around him, and Remy looked up at his papa.

“Ready t’ go?” The man asked, and Remy nodded silently, but smiled when he was hugged, tightly.

“Je taime…”

“Love you too, Remy…” Jean Luc smiled. “Now, go find y’ Tante… help her get packed up.”

“Oui, Papa.” Remy nodded, and hurried off to do so.


	11. Chapter 11

Summer was soon in full swing, and the Romani were halfway through their yearly travel… Remy learned to swim in the rivers that they camped near, and Remy rather enjoyed it. He seemed to grow more confident, happy and precocious every day, and even started trying to skip out on his chores from time to time. By mid summer, Jean Luc had to ground the boy to the wagon for the day four times. But Remy took it in stride, almost seeming amused that he was being disciplined. Overall, he was a very agreeable child, and in quiet moments between father and son, very loving. The boy worshiped Jean Luc, and went to bed every night with a smile and a soft “Je taime, papa,” as he was kissed on the forehead and tucked in, a gentle hand stroking his hair, which, Jean Luc had been incredibly grateful to discover, had a calming effect on the energetic child.

With every town they visited, Remy become more and more excited… Everything caught his attention and admiration, from a new flower he had never seen before, to the magnificent stained glass windows of a church. He loved to see the lavish furnishings that the privileged had in their homes on the burglaries he went on with his clan; carved wood furniture, tapestries, paintings, gleaming candelabras, elaborate roaring fireplaces and Coat of Arms on display…

He loved the smell of new foods, and relished being able to taste them… And he loved meeting new people. At almost every township, Remy would find a local girl about his age that he could dance with… he liked to teach them new ways to dance, and learn from them, if they knew something that he didn’t…

“Dat boy’s gon’ be a heartbreaker, boss…” Laughed Olivier one evening. “Bes’ keep y’ eye on ‘im, Oui?”

No one had any idea just how right Olivier was…

In late summer, they arrived to their biggest, and longest stop…

Paris…

To say that Remy was amazed when he saw the city was an understatement. Never had Jean Luc seen the boy’s eyes so wide, or his mouth agape for so long. The sight of Notre Dame Cathedral in the distance was beyond anything that the child had ever even imagined.

“Surely,” he gasped, “dat be de home o’ de King?!”

“Mais non, Remy…” Jean Luc chuckled. “De King live at Versaille… dat be Notre Dame Cathedral… a church.”

“Mon Dieu… c’est magnifique…” Remy exclaimed. “God ‘imself mus’ live dere!”

“Ah, non, Remy…” Jean Luc grinned. “He live in de Kingdom o’ Heaven, in a gleaming palace o’ Gold, a hundred times bigger!” Remy looked astounded for moment before he frowned in thought, and then decided, “Guess God WOULD need dat kind o’ space…”

Everyone in ear shot laughed.

And the next day, they rolled into Paris. Remy was astounded. And he was completely overwhelmed. Everywhere he looked was something new… so many sounds and smells… Once, he was so overcome that he lost his balance, and his Tante Mattie had to seize him by the back of his shirt before he toppled off of the wagon, and then held him there, shrieking for help until Andre ran up and stretched out his arms, calling for Mattie to let go, and with a laugh, he caught Remy when he fell. After that, he simply handed Remy off to Henri, and Remy rode before his big brother on his buckskin, where he could look around while under close supervision. And Henri, grinning, would point things out and tell Remy all about the new things he was seeing.

For the first week that they were there, Remy had a constant babysitter… or tour guide, it depended on who you asked. There was an area in the city where gypsies that were coming and going could set up camp while in Paris, in a small community of gypsies that lived there permanently.

And at the end of the first week, as night fell, Remy was quietly bundled up on his papa’s horse and taken deep into the city. From there, they made their way into the catacombs and Remy found himself brought into a secret meeting chamber filled with strange people, who greeted Jean Luc with respect, and Remy with surprised curiosity… And when the meeting was called to order, Jean Luc rose from his seat at the round table and lifted Remy up, his hands under the boy’s arms, and set him to stand on the table.

“Dis is my adopted son,” he declared, “Remy LeBeau! An’ I submit his candidacy as an apprentice of de Guild of T’ieves!” Remy’s heart leapt in excitement at that!

And then the tests began. It was all a whirlwind for Remy, who had been given no prior warning that this would happen… He was tested in the School of the Seven Bells... he picked locks. He had a mock duel with a laughing woman and had to demonstrate his stealth… and then, he was taken out into the city, and was observed performing a burglary, with whispered instructions given at each step, giving him no time to prepare. And then he had to make his escape, to disappear into the city and return to the secret meeting place with his prize, without any assistance… And as the sun rose, he was indeed pronounced an Apprentice Thief…

As incredible as that was, it was not the highlight of his stay in Paris… Oh no… that came a few days later…

Remy had finally been turned loose in the city alone, to do as he pleased. He ran and played and performed with the other children all morning, but in the afternoon, he managed to steal himself a delectable fruit pastry and made his escape to enjoy the spoils…

He found himself up a tree on the edge of a small market square, where he could observe the people with his incessant curiosity as he savored his pastry, and licked his little fingers clean… Once he had finished his treat, Remy relaxed back on the branch of the tree, leaning against the trunk as he watched the streets. But then, his eyes caught something… There was a girl walking down an alley, behind the fence. Remy’s eyes widened.

“C’est belle…” He breathed, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. She was a petite child in a fine pale blue dress, her hair cascading down her back in luxurious golden ringlets, daintily eating at a croissant as she walked. Remy was completely taken…

And then, it happened. His eyes widened once more, then narrowed as several men emerged, surrounding the girl and pulling knives… She froze, her half eaten croissant dropped to the ground. Remy was already moving. The first man yelped as the boy leapt from the fence, driving the heel of his boot into the man’s jaw and sending him crashing to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl move, and something flash off of metal, but he kept his focus on the man bearing down on him. Remy seized the knife dropped by the man who lay on the ground knocked senseless with a broken jaw, and dodged the strike of the man coming at him. Small and agile, Remy was able to slash open the man’s side, and then—

THUK!!!

Remy gasped, eyes wide, when a knife buried itself into the man’s left eye, and he went down. Remy turned and stared at the girl… and at the other two men, dead on the ground, with knives in their necks and chests… The girl had another knife in her hand, and her steely eyes glared at Remy. 

His heart fluttered, his stomach flipflopped, and he could barely breathe. Then, the girl’s knife was flying, and Remy gasped as it took the knife from own fingers, disarming him. He nearly swooned, turning back to the girl.

She continued to glare in silence, and so Remy drew in a deep breath and exclaimed, “Enchante, mademoiselle…”

“Oh yeah?!” She snapped. “And you are?!”

“… je suis amoureux…” Remy breathed.

“Quoi?” She blurted, startled.

“Uh, LeBeau!” Remy said hastily, trying to cover. “Um… Remy LeBeau…” And then, with what he thought was a charming smile, he sauntered over to her and took her hand, bending his head and kissing it. “At y’ service…”

The girl stared at him, a flush rising in her cheeks, but then her eyes flashed and Remy got a quick glimpse of her fist… before he saw stars.

When Remy regained his senses, it was to chaos. Shouts, threats, the sounds of fighting. And then hands were helping him sit up. Remy instantly recognized the feel of his papa’s anxiety.

“Remy?!” The man was calling. “Remy?! Y’alright?!”

“Hehn?” Remy winced, shaking his head. “Mais oui, Remy be fine!” He insisted, and looked around. Many men of the troupe were there, spread out behind and around Jean Luc and Remy, protectively, and facing down another group of people who ringed the girl and a middle aged man in an identical matter. The man was glaring, and Remy could feel the rising anger in his father…

“Marius…” Jean Luc growled, and the man kneeling beside the girl glared back.

“… Jean Luc. Didn’t know y’ was in town…”

“Been here ‘bout ten days....” Jean Luc responded stiffly.

“Dat filthy brat be one o’ yours?!” Marius demanded, shooting a furious glare at Remy.

“Y’ watch y’ mout’ when y’ speakin’ ‘bout my son!” Jean Luc spat, and Marius looked surprised,

“Son?!” He echoed, then snorted. “An’… what did y’ son do t’ my daughter?!”

“What did y’ daughter do t’ my son?!” Jean Luc snapped back.

“… Jus’ kissed her hand, me!” Remy piped up, looking startled at everything going on around him, and distressed at the emotions he was feeling. “Jus’ introduced m’self… tryin’ t’ be polite!”

Jean Luc looked both amused, and exasperated at that. Marius looked puzzled, but looked down.

“BellaDonna?” He asked, and the girl scowled.

“He touched me.” She stated. “So I punched ‘im in de eye.”

Silence.

“… He kissed y’ hand, so you punched him in de eye?!”

“Oui.” She said firmly with a nod.

Several of the men around Marius and BellaDonna burst out laughing, and several called words of praise to the little girl. Marius pinched the bridge of his nose, actually looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Belle… dat wasn’t polite.” He managed to say, weakly.

“Y’ sure y’ be alright, Remy?” Jean Luc asked, looking half irritated, and half amused as he helped his son to his feet and looked closely at his eye. “Dat gonna be one helluva black eye…”

“She gotta helluva punch!” Remy exclaimed, sounding almost delighted. Grinning like a fool, he turned and looked towards the girl, who, still scowling, was moving forwards, prodded along by her father. The two groups were silent as Jean Luc and Marius approached one another, hands on their child’s shoulder. Then they were staring at each other, before Jean Luc finally sighed and looked down.

“Remy… Dis be Marius Boudreaux… Patriarch o’ de Guild of Assassins. Marius… dis be Remy LeBeau. I adopted him dis past autumn.”

Marius nodded, narrowing his eyes as he inspected the strange eyes of the little boy before him. But then he sighed and followed Jean Luc’s lead. “Dis is my daughter… BellaDonna.” And then he glanced back. “And m’ son… Julien.” A blonde boy, a couple of years older than Remy, glared at the mutant gypsy.

“Enchante…” Remy grinned, and this time, BellaDonna allowed him to take her hand, and bold as can be, Remy bowed and kissed her hand again. And then, startling everyone, he flicked his fingers and was offering her a little pink rosebud. BellaDonna’s eyes widened and she blushed, but after a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it with a soft “… merci.” And then, Remy was rewarded with a shy little smile.

“Alright…” Jean Luc said. “Now dat we all bein’ civil… what de hell happened here?!” And he looked around at the three dead men, and the one still unconscious.

“Dey attacked her, papa!” Remy blurted, all fired up all of a sudden.

“Y’ saw it?!” Marius demanded to know. 

“Mais oui!” Remy exclaimed with a nod. “Was up dere,” he pointed at the tree, “watchin’ de crowd an’ I saw HER!” He turned shining eyes on BellaDonna, who was unable to stop her lips from quirking up in a pleased look, as she gazed at him through her lashes. Jean Luc and Marius were eyeing the pair of them, suspiciously. “An’ den dese connards—“

“Watch yo’ mouth, Remy.” Jean Luc scolded, giving Remy a thump on the head, which the boy ignored.

“—came at her wit’ knives!!!”

“Why ain’t dey all dead?” Marius demanded, glaring down at the man who was still unconscious; Julien was prodding the man’s shoulder with the toe of his boot. “Belle, wha’d y’ do t’ de homme?”

“Nothin’…” She sniffed. “He did.” And she nodded to Remy.

“Well… leas’ y’ got one t’ question…?” Jean Luc offered.

“… If he can talk… looks like y’ boy broke ‘is jaw.” Marius observed. “I handle it from here.”

“Bien..” Jean Luc nodded. “Come on, Remy. Dis ain’t our business.”

“What?!”

“Now, Remy.” Jean Luc said firmly, taking his son by the hand and dragging him away. Remy trotted after him, turning back over his shoulder and staring back at BellaDonna. She was watching him leave with a little smile on her face… still holding the rose bud, she lifted it to her face and sniffed it lightly, then smiled and waved. Remy absolutely beamed, just as he was tugged around the corner.

Soon enough, he was on Voleur before his papa, who was guiding the horse back to camp.

“… Papa?” Remy sighed.

“Oui, mon fils?”

“I’m gonna marry her…”

“… Oh, mon Dieu… baiser ma vie…” Jean Luc groaned. “Remy… need y’ t’ listen t’ yo’ papa real close now…”

“Oui?”

“Y’ stay away from dat girl. An’ all de Assassins.”

“Why?”

“… De Guilds ain’t allies, Remy. We be enemies. We was civil t’day ‘cause o’ you an’ de little girl…”

“BellaDonna…” Remy sighed.

“… Right. Dat one.” Jean Luc rolled his eyes. “But y’ try t’ go near her, you only gon’ get hurt, Remy.”

“I love her…”

“Remy! Y’ been in her presence fo’ ten minutes! She punched y’ in de face! T’ieves an’ Assassins don’t mix!”

“Be like… Romeo an’ Juliet, Papa…”

“Oh, mon dieu… Remy! How did dat story end?!”

“Dey got married!”

“AFTER dat!” Jean Luc prodded, and Remy scowled. “Romeo an’ Juliet DIED, Remy! An’ so will you, iff’n y’ try t’ go near dat girl! Now… drop it an’ fo’get her! I won’t hear another word ‘bout it!”

“But Papa!”

“NOT. ONE. WORD.” Jean Luc barked, making Remy freeze in surprise at how his Papa had raised his voice at him like that… Jean Luc winced them, wrapping an arm around the boy and bowing his head, kissing his hair.

“I love you, my son…” He murmured. “An’ I ain’t gon’ risk losin’ you ove’ a bit o’ puppy love fo’ some Assassin girl… Y’ stay away, Remy… I ain’t losin’ you…”

Remy nodded silently, snuggling up to his papa…

When they got back to camp, Mattie came running.

“What did de boy get himself into, Jean Luc?” She demanded to know, dragging Remy off of the horse to see his face, even as little Brouillard came running, and Remy, giggling, hugged the little foal’s head to his chest.

Jean Luc sighed and shook his head. “He ran afoul o’ de Assassins.” He growled, and Mattie’s eyes widened.

“Dat was hardly runnin’ afoul, papa!!!” Remy laughed as Broulliard snuffled over his face and nibbled at his hair. And then, grinning up at Mattie with sparkling eyes, he announced, “Met de love o’ my life!”

“… Say what now?!” Mattie blurted, laughing.

“De mos’ beautiful girl I eve’ seen, Tante!”

“An’ who dat be, Remy?” She asked, grinning.

“BellaDonna!” Remy proudly declared, and everyone in the area went silent and stared.

“… B-Bella… Donna?” Mattie stammered, now looking shocked. “BellaDonna Boudreaux?!”

“Oui!” Remy nodded eagerly, and Mattie looked up at Jean Luc.

“De boy seems t’ be smitten wit’ Marius Boudreaux’s daughter…” He admitted.

“… Only you, boss.” Andre called, and Jean Luc shot him a warning glare.

“Hmmmm…” Was all Mattie said, eyeing Remy.

“… What?” Jean Luc asked. “I know dat look… what y’ t’inkin’?!”

“Not’in’ Jean Luc…” Mattie said calmly. “Remy… come along now… let y’ Tante take care o’ dat shiner on y’ face…”

“Tante?” Remy asked as he was set down on the stool in her wagon, “Papa say… dat if Remy don’t stay away from… from de madameoiselle, dat… will be Romeo an’ Juliet an’ we will die…”

“Can’t say dat fo’ sure…” Mattie sighed. “Ain’t not’in’ be fo’ sure, Remy, child…” And then the boy fixed such a look of hope upon her, that after an internal debate, she drew her Tarot. Remy’s eyes widened. She had begun to teach him to read the Tarot, but had never before done a reading on Remy…

“You remember what I told y’?” She asked, her voice low and serious. 

“De cards don’t tell us what we WANT t’ hear…” Remy breathed.

“And?”

“Not’in’ be set in stone.”

Remy watched as she shuffled the cards and had Remy cut the deck. She shuffled again and then fanned them out. “Draw.” She said softly. Remy stared at the cards for a long moment, then reached out with both hands and caught each end of the fan, folding them all in until they were tucked in Mattie’s hands once more.

“Non…” Remy said, and gave her a little smile. “Don’t need de cards t’ tell me anyt’ing… Remy gon’ make his own fortune…”

Mattie stared at him for a moment, then put the cards away and leaned down, kissing his hair. “Y’ never cease t’ surprise me, Remy…” She said with a smile, and then hugged him close. “Y’ be de child o’ my heart… I love you…”

“Je taime aussi, Tante…” Remy sighed, smiling and snuggling close.


	12. Chapter 12

Ten year old Remy LeBeau had been given explicit instruction to stay away from BellaDonna Boudreaux. The very next day, he ignored that order…

While his Papa and the other adults were still breaking their fast, Remy put his stealth skills to work and slipped away after tending to Brouillard. And then the ten year old was off in the massive city of Paris! He made his way straight to where he had first seen BellaDonna, and there the hunt began… Remy began to head down the narrow alley in the direction that the girl had come from, his keen red eyes seeking out something… anything… There. In the mud. It was dried, but it was the print of what looked like a shoe that a little girl would wear. Remy turned right and headed in that direction. When he reached the street, he looked around, frowning. And then, he saw it. 

A bakery…

Eagerly, he darted across the street and in the door. His eyes took to the dim lighting in the bakery better than the bright sun on the street, and he smiled as he inhaled the warm smell of bread baking.

“Bonjour…” A man called, turning from where he was setting out baguettes. “What can I-- oh! What are you doing in here?! GET OUT!!!” Remy froze when he felt the anger coming off of the man, and he backed away a step.

“What is it?” A woman cried running out from the back.

“A filthy, thieving gypsy!”

“Oh, mon dieu… It’s a little boy, don’t be ridiculous!” The woman scolded, grabbing the man by the arm as he had raised a broom, seeming dead set on whacking Remy with it. She shoved the man away and smiled down at Remy.

“What are you doing here, sweetie?” She asked, kindly. Remy eyed the man, still glowering. Fortunately, in the dim light of the shop, they hadn’t seen his eyes quite yet.

“Uh… lookin’ f’ someone, me…” Remy said softly. “A, uh… a girl…” The woman blinked, and then an amused smile touched her lips. 

“A girl, hm?”

“Oui…” Remy nodded. “Met her yesterday, me… Only f’ a moment. Wanna see her again. She came from down dere…” He turned and pointed out the door to the alley, and the woman leaned over to peer out the door and look.

“Yes?”

“She was… eatin’ one o’ dem.” Remy turned, pointing then at the rack of croissants.

“Oh?” The woman asked, a twinkle in her eye. “Can you describe her?”

“Mais oui!” Remy gasped, face lighting up. “She is beautiful! Wit’ eyes blue as de sky an’ hair like gold…”

“Ah… You’re looking for Miss BellaDonna.”

“Mais oui!” Remy nodded eagerly.

“You can find her at the Chateau Boudreaux.” The woman said and pointed. “Go down this street here, and make a left at the Tailor. The Chateau will be almost a mile down on your right.”

“Merci…” Remy grinned, and turned to run out of the place, but then paused and shoved his hand into his purse. “May I… get two o’ dose?” He asked then, pointing at the croissants. The woman grinned

“Of course…” She nodded, and packed up two of the pastries for him. Remy accepted his little package and paid the woman, and with a bright smile and a happy “Merci!”, he darted from the store. The woman stood there, stunned.

“… Did… did you…?” She asked, looking at her husband.

“Did I what?”

“Did you see his eyes?”

“… No… why?”

“… Nothing. I must have been seeing things…” She mumbled, shaking her head and returning to the kitchen where she had dough rising…

Remy ran down the street, eyes bright and eager now that he knew where he was going. He paused twice more, once to get some grapes and cheese, and then once more at a girl on the corner with a basket of flowers. With his little gifts in hand, Remy ran the final stretch up the road until he finally saw it.

Chateau Boudreaux. 

It was a large, lavish house overlooking the street, and the gates were closed. A man stood on either side, vigilant…

Remy turned and darted down the alley, tucking his gifts into his satchel and beginning to climb the neighboring building. Then, from the rooftops, he began to circle the Chateau, working out how he could get in.

And then he saw her… In a window on the second floor. BellaDonna Boudreaux… She was walking down the hall, and Remy followed her, window to window… When she went down the stairs, he lost her and he pouted. Until he caught sight of her hair in the sunlight… she was in the gardens. She had her hands cupped before her and she approached the fountain and began to scatter something into the water. Remy saw the water ripple and splash and churn… she was feeding fish.

Remy smiled and began to make his way closer… he scaled down the side of the building and when he was at the right height, he pushed off. He sailed through the air, twisting about and catching the edge of the garden wall, pulling himself up. She hadn’t seen him… He dropped into the gardens, the scent of the roses thick on the summer air…

His little heart pounding, Remy silently crept through the garden, moving closer to the fountain. As he drew closer, he could hear her humming, and it brought a smile to his face. He screwed up his courage and stepped out from behind the hedge, and the girl immediately had a knife in hand, ready to be thrown.

“Oh!” She gasped, eyes widening. “It’s YOU!”

“Mais oui…” Remy nodded, smiling and giving her a little bow. She eyed him.

“What y’ be doin’ here?” She demanded, and he slowly approached.

“Wanted t’ see y’ again, me… Afte’ yesterday…” He trailed off awkwardly. “Did y’ pere find who wanted t’ hurt y’?”

“… it’s bein’ dealt wit’…” BellaDonna said curtly, still eyeing the gypsy boy. Finally, he smiled and offered her the flowers he had bought. 

“Brought y’ dese!” He announced. Her eyes widened in shock, and then she blushed prettily.

“Oh… porquoi?” She gasped, and tentatively reached out and accepted them.

“Well…” Remy said, trying to casual, yet charming. “We didn’t ‘zactly get t’greet each ot’er proper yesterday… not wit’ de, uh…”

“I ‘spose so…” BellaDonna said, delicately sniffing the flowers and partially hiding her smile behind them. This had Remy’s face splitting into a grin, and he brought his feet together and placed one arm across his front and the other tucked behind his back as he bowed, saying “Let’s try dis again… Remy LeBeau, at y’ service, mademoiselle.”

Belle’s smile widened and she blushed once more, giving a little curtsy and offering her hand. “Enchante, monsieur LeBeau…” She returned as he accepted her hand and kissed it. “BellaDonna Boudreaux.”

Remy straightened up then, but still held her hand. Belle was partially hiding her face behind the flowers again, and for a moment, the children just stood there, red in the face and smiling at each other, both pleased, yet at a loss for how to proceed from there.

Remy wracked his brains, thinking of what he had seen of courtship. Finally, he released her hand and stepped closer, now offering his arm. Belle looked away, though her eyes sparkled, and then she laid a dainty hand upon his sleeve and the pair walked into the rose garden where they would not easily be seen, and sat down on a stone bench.

Eagerly, Remy thrust his hands into his satchel and withdrew the cheesecloth within, untied it and let it fall open. “I brought y’ somet’in…” He declared, and watched the flowers fall away, giving him an unobstructed view of her brilliant smile when she saw the grapes, cheese, and two croissants.

“Where’d y’ get dat?” She gasped, indicating the flaky bread.

“De lil’ place on de corner down dat way.” Remy indicated with a jerk of his head. “De place you went to yesterday. Remember y’ had one, but… y’ dropped it in de fight.”

“Oui…” Belle nodded, and accepted one of the two croissants. “Dey be m’ favorite.” And she nibbled at one end, her lips still quirked up in a smile as gazed up at Remy through her eyelashes. “Merci… dis be very kind o’ you…”

He just stared at her, grinning like a fool, and then absently breathed, “Tu es belle…”

Belle’s eyes widened at that and she looked him straight in the eye. “Quoi?!”

Remy blinked, startled. “Said dat out loud, didn’t I?” He mumbled, and then gave her a sheepish smile. “Desole, mais… You be de mos’ beautiful lady dis boy eve’ seen…”

Belle flushed once more and lifted a finger to wind around her hair, nervously… but her smile and blush and lowering of the eyes betrayed just how flattered and pleased that she was.

“An’ de way y’ threw dose knives?!” Remy blurted suddenly, and she looked up at him in surprise. “Magnifique!!! Be learnin’ t’ throw dem m’self, me! Been pretty good, but de way y’ done it?! Spectacular!”

Belle let out a delighted laugh then, the voice of angels to young Remy’s ears. “Merci beacoup!” She exclaimed. “It be an art.”

“An’ y’ be a livin’ work of art y’self, cher.” Remy complimented, loving the smiles that he was bringing from her.

“De art of bein’ an assassin’ be one I was born to.” She nodded. “Still got much t’ learn. ‘Spose de same can be said o’ bein’ a thief?”

“Mais oui.” Remy nodded thoughtfully. “Haven’t been wit’ de clan fo’ a year yet… was a street t’ief b’fo’ dat. But Remy’s learned a lot… an’ still got lots more t’ learn.”

“Y’ seemed t’ handle y’self fine yesterday.” Belle told him, batting her eyes a bit.

“Not like YOU did.” Remy insisted. “But gon’ get better, me.”

“When y’ came outta dat tree an’ ove’ dat fence…” Belle breathed, eyes sparkling, “Was like y’ was flyin’…”

“M’ teachers say,” Remy grinned, “dat if man was meant t’ fly, dey woulda be born wit’ wings, but dat neve’ stops Remy from tryin’!”

Belle laughed in delight. “Y’ show me?” She asked, and Remy grinned again, setting the snacks aside and standing, looking down the stretch of green grass that was before them, a path through the roses. He broke into a sprint and threw himself into a series of flips, stopped them and simply ran for the last stretch… when he reached the wall, Belle’s eyes widened when he didn’t stop, but ran UP the wall and kicked off, arching into a backflip through the air, twisting as he went, and then came down in the grass for a three point landing, facing her, his eyes bright to see her reaction. 

The ten year old boy rose and puffed up a bit as the girl clapped her hands, calling “Marvilleux!!! Dat was wonderful!” He hurried back to the bench and the pair sat and shared the food that Remy had brought, chattering away for over an hour.

Noon was fast approaching when Belle, giving him a sly smile and sideways look, casually stated “Always enjoyed de different gypsies dat come t’rough Paris…” She sighed a bit. “Some o’ de men jus’ be so handsome… ‘lot o’ dem have earrings…” She frowned and cocked her head in thought, then looked at Remy. “Why don’t you?”

Remy blinked, surprised. “Uh… neve’ really t’ought about it…” He admitted. Belle gave him a little smile. He eyed her, then asked “Would it please you? If Remy got one?”

With a crafty smile, Belle lifted a hand and brushed back some of his hair, trailed a finger down the edge of his ear, and brushed the lobe. “T’ink y’d look so beau…” She sighed, peering up at him through her eyelashes. “Would y’ get one? Fo’ me?”

Remy nodded dumbly. “Mais oui…” She beamed, pleased.

“BellaDonna?” 

Both children froze at the call. “Papa…” Belle gasped. “Y’ bette’ go!”

Remy stood. “I come see y’ soon!” He assured her. 

“I’d like dat…” Belle smiled, also standing. Remy stared at her for a moment, looking like he was debating something, but then flushed and turned, running for the wall of the garden. Belle watched him go, but then gasped when a hand shot out from behind a rose bush and seized Remy by the back of his shirt. The young gypsy yelped as he was jerked off of his feet and then… he found himself dangling and staring into the hard blue eyes of Marius Boudreaux.

“You?!” Marius blurted in surprise.

“Afte’noon, monsieur.” Remy offered with a sheepish smile.

“What in de hell are y’ doin’ here?!” Marius demanded.

“Papa! Put ‘im down!” Belle pleaded, and he snapped his head over to look at her. His eyes took in the scene… Belle at the stone bench… there was a cheese cloth on the bench with what appeared to be the flaky crumbs of bread, and the bare stems of what was once a clump of grapes. And then there were the flowers that BellaDonna had clutched in her hand… they were no flowers that grew in the garden… he knew that. 

He turned and eyed the boy in his grasp. “Belle… inside.” He growled.

“Don’t hurt him!” BellaDonna cried.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt a child!” Marius cried, looking almost shocked that she would suspect that of him. “Now on y’ way!”

“What are y’ gonna do?” Belle demanded to know.

Marius rolled his eyes. “Gon’ take dis wayward pup home.” He grumbled, and dragged Remy away. Remy stumbled after him, but turned and looked back. BellaDonna was giving him an apologetic look, but then… 

Oh, but then…

She blew him a kiss.

And Remy’s heart soared…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jean Luc was bent over his desk, looking over the numbers and inventory of his troupe when Olivier burst through his door without even knocking. And then, without preamble, he said “Hey, boss… y’ bette’ come out here…”

“What’s goin’ on?” Jean Luc asked, laying down his quill and capping the ink well.

“… It’s Remy.”

That got the man to his feet real quick, and he followed Olivier out. And there, he nearly cursed. 

Marius Boudreaux sat astride his horse in the middle of the camp… with Remy seated before him.

“Oh, shit…” Jean Luc muttered under his breath, then steeled himself and approached.

“Marius.” He greeted, and the man turned and looked down at him and gave him a nod. Jean Luc then looked at his son. “… Remy…? What de hell did y’ do?”

“Y’ boy was in my garden.” Marius snorted.

“In y’—what de hell was he doin’ dere?!” Jean Luc blurted, and then his eyes widened even more. “… Remy?! Did you go see Miss BellaDonna?!”

“Mai oui!” Remy chirped, as though this should be obvious. “Took ‘er flowers, me!”

“… oh, mon dieu…” Jean Luc groaned, his face falling into his hand. “Marius… I apologize…”

“I ain’t declarin’ war ove’ de antics o’ children.” Marius sighed, lowering Remy from his horse and to the ground, where Jean Luc immediately tugged him close and gripped his shoulder, tightly. “Jus’… keep y’ boy outta m’ yard, LeBeau.”

“… I will…” Jean Luc growled, glaring down at Remy. Marius shook his head and turned his horse, leaving. And then Jean Luc spun Remy around to look at him. 

“Well?” He demanded of his son. “Whatcha got t’ say f’ y’self?!”

“… I love her!”

“REMY!”

“An’ she like me, too!”

“Oh, dis be bette’ dan de plays dey put on!” Henri laughed.

“Shut de hell up, y’ ain’t helpin’!” Jean Luc snapped at his older boy as he turned and dragged Remy to the wagon and shoved him inside. “Y’ ain’t leavin’ dis damn wagon fo’ de next t’ree days, y’ hear me?!”

“Y’ groundin’ me?!” The troupe heard Remy cry from inside as Jean Luc climbed in. 

“Y’ damn straight I am!” The man barked, and slammed the door behind himself. The troupe broke into laughter a moment later.

In the wagon, Jean Luc whirled. 

“Remy… I told you t’ stay away from de fille…”

“Tante Mattie say Remy need t’ follow his heart!”

“Remy!!! You gon’ follow y’ heart like a lamb t’ slaughter!”

Remy drooped, and Jean Luc winced when he felt the dejection his son was feeling.

“Ah, Remy…” He sighed, running his hand through his hair and moving to sit on the edge of his bunk. He reached out and curled his fingers around Remy’s arm and tugged him in close, so that the boy was stood between his legs, and he hugged him. Remy sniffled a bit and lowered himself to sit on his papa’s knee, laying his head on the man’s shoulder.

“Dere be so many girls out dere, Remy…” Jean Luc murmured, gently soothing his son by stroking his hair. “An’ y’ met a lot in de towns! Dey like y’! An’ y’ gon’ meet more…”

“… Love her, me…” Remy whimpered.

“Remy.. why?! Why BellaDonna?!”

“Je ne sais pas…” Remy shrugged. “Just… saw ‘er an’ I knew…”

“Knew what?”

“… Dat she be special, Papa. Dat dere ain’t no one like her, an’ dere ain’t no ot’er girl fo’ Remy…”

Jean Luc sighed, but smiled. “Y’ still young… dis be puppy love. Jus’ a lil’ crush… You gon’ grow out of it.”

“She love me too!”

“How d’you know dat?!”

Remy shrugged. “Could feel it, me… well… she LIKE me… Was happy when we was toget’er…”

Jean Luc studied his son, then sighed and shook his head, kissing his forehead.

“Remy… please… stay away from BellaDonna…”

Remy fixed his Papa with a wounded expression, and the man could only pull him in close and hug him tight…


	13. Chapter 13

Ten days had passed, and Remy had stayed in camp. Three days into it, as soon as his wagon-grounding was over, he had gone to his big brother, Henri, and said he wanted to get an earring, like him. And so Henri had taken him to one of the ladies in the troupe, and Remy had come away with a gold ring in each ear. Jean Luc had been a bit surprised, but thought nothing of it.

On the tenth day, Jean Luc was out of the camp on business… and Remy made his escape… and, of course, he made his way to Chateau Boudreaux. He didn’t go straight there though, no… he made several stops on the way. When he arrived, his satchel was stuffed full of gifts… And to his delight, BellaDonna was in the garden again, reading.

She looked up when she heard him land lightly in the grass and her eyes widened. She looked around to see if anyone was peering out the windows, and then got to her feet and ran to him, taking his hand and tugging him back further so that they were hidden amongst the roses once more. Then she spun and grinned.

“Y’ back!” She exclaimed, and then her eyes widened. “Oh…” She reached out and fingered one of his earrings. “Oh, dey look wonderful on y’!”

“Y’ like dem?” Remy asked eagerly.

“Mais oui! I love dem!” She clasped her hands in front of herself and turned back and forth a bit, batting her eyes and smiling. “Did… Did y’ get dem… t’ please me?”

Remy just nodded, a dopey grin on his face. “Brought y’ somet’in, too…” He announced, and once more gave her flowers. A bigger bunch this time, with more assortment. Belle laughed in delight as she accepted them, and then gasped when Remy showed her the little box of chocolates… a luxurious item to be sure… And then there were several long ribbons of various colors… black, baby blue, pink, green…

“Fo’ y’ hair…” Remy explained, boldly reaching out and tracing a long golden lock with his fingertips, where it fell on her shoulder in a long, lovely spiral. Belle grinned, blushing.

“Merci…” She cooed, and then, leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

Oh, little Remy’s heart could have burst. The warmth spread through him and he found himself giddy and lightheaded.

Two hours later, Marius Boudreaux was calmly walking down the hall of the second floor when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and looked out the window, and his jaw dropped.

Jean Luc LeBeau, that filthy gypsy thief, was climbing his back wall!!!

Marius charged down the stairs, calling for his men, and they burst out into the garden, just in time to see Jean Luc appear from amongst the roses, a squirming Remy tucked under his arm.

“-de hell y’ doin’ here?! I TOLD you t’ STAY AWAY from de girl!” Jean Luc was nearly shouting.

“Arretez, Papa! Mettez-moi! Laisser-aller!” Remy was howling.

“What de HELL is goin’ on?!” Marius bellowed, and the father and son both froze and stared. And then, Jean Luc actually turned red.

“Papa!” Marius looked as his daughter ran up to him. “Let Remy stay! S’il te plait?”

“See?!” Remy blurted, looking up at his Papa.

“Hush.” The man grumbled, thumping his son on the head when he set him back on his feet. 

“Ow…” Remy pouted, rubbing his head and glaring up at his papa.

“What de hell be goin’ on?” Marius demanded to know, and Jean Luc looked thoroughly embarrassed.

“Apparently, mon fils be of de opinion dat we got a real life Romeo an’ Juliet unfoldin’ here in Paris…”

“Oh, c’est romantique!” BellaDonna gasped, clasping her hands and smiling brightly. Remy gave her a love-struck grin in return. Their fathers just deadpanned.

“BellaDonna… How did dat story end?!” Marius seethed.

“Dey got married!” She and Remy both announced.

“Dey DIED!!!” Marius and Jean Luc groaned.

“Remy… so help me, you STAY AWAY from Miss BellaDonna!” Jean Luc all but pleaded.

“BellaDonna… you stay away from dat boy!” Marius snapped, and the girl glared defiantly up at him, even as Remy glared at his papa.

“… Let’s go.” Jean Luc growled, turning and dragging Remy back into the garden.

“LeBeau!” Marius barked, and both of the gypsies turned. “Stop climbin’ de damn walls!” He pointed at the house. “Use de front door like civilized people!”

“Next time, Remy knock politely den.” Remy snickered, then hissed as he was thumped on the head again.

“Dere ain’t gon’ be a next time, y’ hear?!” Jean Luc snapped, and dragged Remy after Marius, through the house and out the front door.

Their arrival in camp was well attended.

“Found ‘im wit’ de girl, eh, boss?” Andre called, grinning.

Jean Luc scowled, but did not dismount his horse. He stared around at the troupe, took a deep breath and called “Fo’ de remainder o’ our stay in Paris, Remy is grounded to de camp.”

“WHAT?!” Remy shrieked, then yelped and clapped his hands over his head when he was thumped again. 

“If he wanna leave, he need t’ have an adult accompany him. An’ dat man o’ woman be responsible fo’ keepin’ track o’ him. Iffn’ any o’ you take him outta camp an’ lose ‘im, YOU be de one t’ retrieve ‘im an’ explain t’ Marius Boudreaux, de Patriarch o’ de Assassin’s Guild. Am I understood?!”

The troupe all called out their affirmative answers, and Remy pouted like Christmas had been cancelled, whining “Dis ain’t fair!”

“I done told y’ twice t’ stay away.” Jean Luc snapped, dismounting and lifting his son down from Voleur. “Grounded y’ t’ de wagon fo’ t’ree days an’ dat didn’t stop y’. Maybe y’ listen t’ yo’ papa now, oui?” 

Remy scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Remy… y’ promise me dat y’ won’t go near dat girl again.” 

Remy furiously shook his head.

“Remy…” Jean Luc drawled in a warning tone.

“Mais non!” Remy shouted, stamping his boot. Jean Luc’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then he scowled and snarled, grabbing Remy’s arm. 

“C’mon.” He growled, dragging Remy towards the wagon. 

“Non!!! Laissez-aller!” Remy screamed, digging his heels into the ground and throwing his weight back, trying to get loose. 

“Remy! Stop dat!” His father howled, looking down at him in dismay. 

“Mais non! Ain’t gon’ promise dat, an’ I ain’t stayin’ away! Love her, me!”

“YOU’RE TEN YEARS OLD!!!” Jean Luc bawled, wrapping an arm around Remy’s waist and hoisting him up. And then, the entire camp just watched, eyes wide and mouth agape, as Remy LeBeau threw his first tantrum. 

And it was spectacular.

Screaming, shouting, cursing, writhing, bucking, hitting, kicking, biting, clawing… and projecting his fury out to everyone in the camp.

“Il est vraiment un Diable Blanc…” Olivier gasped.

Jean Luc was shouting now as Remy had braced his hands and feet on the doorframe of the wagon and was screaming bloody murder as his father tried to shove him inside. It took some doing, but he finally managed it, and the door slammed shut.

“Alrigh’…” Jean Luc huffed, glaring down at the furious child. “Dat’s it. You be too old t’ be behavin’ like dat! If you gon’ act like dat, you gon’ pay de price!”

Remy was now eying his papa, trying to gauge just what he was in for; he had never felt his papa so angry… not at HIM. He was not ready when the man seized his arm and dragged him the few steps over to the bunk. Then Jean Luc sat down, and before Remy could even being to think, the man had jerked his sash away, torn his trousers down, spun him around and put him over his knee.

“What de—“

CRACK!

“OW!!!” Remy howled, eyes going wide in utter shock as he froze where he was, face down on his father’s lap. His mind had gone completely blank. He didn’t know how to react. How to feel. What to do…

CRACK!

“AI!!!”

“You will NOT!”

CRACK!

“PAPA!”

“Behave like dat!”

CRACK!

“Arretez!”

“EVER again!”

CRACK!

“OW!”

“D’you hear me?!” Jean Luc demanded. Remy whined and squirmed.

CRACK!

“AAH!”

“I said, DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

“OUI!” Remy cried, tears streaming down his red face. “Remy hear! Oui, d’accord! Je suis desole!!!”

Jean Luc slowly lowered the hand that he had raised again, and in a calm voice, he said “Bien… Dat ain’t no way fo’ a young man your age t’ act. You will NOT disrespect someone like dat. EVER. Especially yo’ papa. D’accord?”

“… D-D’accord…” Remy whispered between hiccups. His body was trembling and his chest hitched with his sobs that he was trying to suppress. He whimpered when strong hands lifted him up until he was standing, and then righted his trousers. Then the hands were cupping his face, the thumbs gently wiping away his tears, even as more fell.

“Look at me.” Jean Luc murmured, and after a moment, Remy did. “Dat kind o’ behavior ain’t tolerated. Y’ hear me?”

“Oui, papa…” Remy whispered, reaching out to sense the man. He felt that his rage had subsided, and now sadness and regret had moved in… but also… love. Remy gasped softly as he was gathered close to the man’s chest, and he closed his eyes as those hands stroked his hair.

“I love you, Remy…” Jean Luc said softly. “An’ de las’ t’ing I want is t’ hurt you… but you do somet’in like dat again, I will not hesitate t’ put y’ over me knee again… y’hear?”

“Oui… Remy hear…” the boy whispered, sniffling. They sat there for a long time like that, and Jean Luc felt his son go limp, bit by bit. Finally, he turned and laid Remy down on his bunk, tugging off his boots and removing all of his clothes but his simple tunic. Then he turned down the blankets on Remy’s bunk and transferred him from Jean Luc’s bed to his own. And then the Rom Baro kissed his cheek, stroked his hair and tucked him in.

“You can come out fo’ dinner.” He murmured. “I see y’ den…” And he slipped out of the wagon, closing the door behind him and leaving his son to sleep.

“Dat was damn impressive.” 

Jean Luc turned and gave Henri a look. “Don’t encourage de boy.”

“I ain’t!” Henri laughed, moving to walk by his father. “Sounded like y’ gave his ass a whuppin’.”

“Damn straight I did.”

“… How’d he take it?”

“Not sure.” Jean Luc sighed. “T’ink he was more shocked dan anyt’ing…”

“Dis be de firs’ time y’ ever raised a hand t’ him, Papa…” Henri pointed out. Jean Luc paused, his eyes distant, and then he winced and bowed his head, rubbing his hands over his face.

“… I never wanted to…” He breathed, sitting down by the main fire. “Dat boy’s been hurt enough… I shouldn’t have done dat.”

“Part o’ de abuse an’ neglect dat boy suffered,” Mattie spoke up, “was from de lack of nurture an’ discipline, both. Y’ nurture dat boy jus’ fine. But now he be pushin’ de boundaries, y’ need ta be firm wit’ de discipline, Jean Luc.”

“I know dat! But I shouldn’ta hit him!”

“Pfft! Smackin’ dat boy’s ass ain’t gon’ damage ‘im.” Mattie scoffed. “Afte’ dat scene he jus’ made?! He had it comin’! Actin’ like a lil’ devil child… Hmph!”

“Dat was truly Le Diable Blanc dere, boss…” Olivier was chuckling. Jean Luc blinked, and then slowly grinned. 

“Dat it was… de boy been such an angel… Now I seen de ot’er side… Now I know what dem priests was tryin’ t’ warn me about, eh?” He mused, and the troupe laughed.

Two weeks went by, and Remy remained in camp. He only left twice, once with Henri, and once with his Papa, who had started to feel sorry for him, cooped up in the camp… He set aside a day for the two of them to just spend together. It had gone wonderfully, and Jean Luc had been relieved. Ever since his spanking, Remy had seemed so quiet and withdrawn, and almost skittish. But spending quality time with his papa had repaired his shaken confidence; his papa still loved him.

Hell, Jean Luc had gone out of his way to spoil his son rotten that day… They had returned to camp late, with Remy dozing against his papa’s chest.

When they only had one week left in Paris, Jean Luc was finally relaxing. Remy hadn’t tried to escape the camp… he was being watched too closely.

It was a warm afternoon with a cool breeze, hinting at the coming autumn season, and Remy was tending to his chores, packing away goods that the troupe would be carrying back with them to their winter camp, though some would be traded on the way…

“Need a hand?” He looked up to see who was offering, and his eyes widened.

A smiling face looked back at him, with crystal blue eyes, and blonde hair, tucked up in a little cap. It was BellaDonna… dressed in a tunic, trousers and boots, and looking very much a like any ten year old boy from around the down. She moved to kneel beside Remy and help him pack the crate.

“What y’ doin’ here?!” Remy gasped, grinning.

“Figured dat dey had y’ on lock down. Y’ ain’t come t’ see me…” She told him.

“Oui… Been grounded t’ camp, me. An’ EVERYONE be watchin’ po’ Remy!”

“But dey ain’t watchin’ out fo’ ME!” She told him with a smug smile, and Remy snickered, then took her hand.

“C’mon!” He cried, and the pair ran across the camp.

“Where y’ off to, Remy?” Called a woman, grinning.

“De horses!” He called back.

“Who be y’ friend?”

“Bernard!” Belle called back, smiling and waving as she was tugged past.

“You boys behave!”

“We will, Cecile!” Remy assured her, and then they were at the paddock. “Brouillard!” Remy called, and BellaDonna watched a fuzzy bay foal come frolicking over. “Dis my horse! Brouillard!” Remy announced proudly, ducking into the paddock and hugging the horse’s neck. Belle grinned, reaching a hand in and rubbing his muzzle.

“He a handsome colt.” She said with a smile.

“He gon’ lose his baby fur in de spring.” Remy told her with a smile. “Gon’ start breakin’ him in, den.”

“Y’ break horses?”

“Neve’ done it b’fo’, me.” Remy admitted. “Papa gon’ teach me. He broke Voleur, an’ he a real good horse.”

“De gypsies be known fo’ good horses.” Belle smiled, folding her arms on the fence and resting her head on them, smiling at Remy. “You be movin’ on soon, aren’t y’?”

Remy sighed, drooping a bit. “Oui… next week.” He nodded. 

“But… you be back next year?” She asked.

“T’ink so…” He nodded again, and looked at her. “I bring y’ somet’in’ real special! Not gon’ fo’get y’…”

“Y’ will?” She asked, her eyes brightening.

“What y’ want?” Remy asked.

“… Always wanted… a string o’ pearls…” Bella gasped, eyes sparkling.

“Den Remy get y’ some!” The gypsy boy nodded with a grin. “Bring y’ presents… from everywhere!” Belle just smiled up at him. “An’ next year, when Remy come back… Can come see y’ on m’ own horse. An’ we can ride!”

“I’d like dat…” She sighed, smiling prettily.

“Remy?” 

Remy and Belle both looked up at the call, and Remy answered “Oui, Tante?”

“Stop playin’ wit’ de horses! Come carry dis here fo’ me!” The woman called back. Remy sighed and rolled his eyes, smiling, and Belle grinned. The pair scampered off, Remy saying “don’t let ‘er see y’ face! She gon’ know y’!”

“Alrigh’!” Belle nodded, keeping her head down and turned. For the next little while, Remy helped his Tante carry some things to her wagon, and then he and BellaDonna made their escape, sitting at the edge of camp with some lunch. Remy and Belle spend the afternoon, doing chores and sneaking off around camp between the tasks, and before they knew it, evening was upon them.

Jean Luc had returned to camp then, and was looking around for his son. He looked pleased when he spotted Remy, carrying wood to the fire with another child. 

“Remy!” Mattie called. “Y’ papa home!” Jean Luc blinked, quirking a brow at the amused look on Mattie’s face, and the guilty look on Remy’s… “Why don’t y’ introduce y’ new friend?” Mattie asked then, a sly grin on her face. Remy’s eyes widened even more.

“Uh… Bernard was jus’ headin’ home, papa!” He called, as the other child made haste to the edge of the camp.

“Nuh-uh.” Mattie hummed, catching Bernard by the elbow as he passed. “Dat wouldn’t be right, Remy… should’t let a young lady walk home all by ‘erself… ain’t proper. Is it, Miss BellaDonna?”

Jean Luc’s eyes widened at that, and Remy winced.

“BellaDonna?!” Jean Luc demanded, ignoring all the eyes on him as he strode over to Mattie and gripped the child’s chin, tilting up the young face. The wide blue eyes stared back.

“Yo’ papa’s gon’ have a conniption…” Jean Luc drawled, staring down at the girl. She gulped, and Jean Luc sighed, trying not to grin. “Alrigh’… c’mon den. I’ll take y’ home.” And he took her hand and led her over to his horse. “Remy! Wagon. Now.”

“Didn’t do nuthin’, me!” Remy howled.

Jean Luc gave him a warning look, saying “Get in dere o’ you goin’ over m’ knee.”

Remy’s eyes widened at that and he bolted for the wagon. Jean Luc watched him go with a chuckle, and then turned and guided the horse out of camp.

Across the town, Marius was pacing. Dinner was ready, and his daughter was nowhere to be found.

“Where de HELL has dat girl gone off to?!” He seethed, and his son, Julien, shrugged. Both looked up at the knock on the door. Marius immediately headed for it, jerking it open. He narrowed his eyes. “… LeBeau…”

“Evening, Marius.” Jean Luc nodded, looking rather amused. “Uh… t’ink dis belongs t’ you…” And he pushed a child forward, over the threshold. “Dis lil’ fellow, Bernard, I believe it was? Has apparently been in m’ camp all day, helpin’ Remy wit’ his chores…”

Marius looked down at the child with the bowed head. Jean Luc removed the child’s cap, and long golden curls came tumbling down.

“… BellaDonna?!” Marius blurted, eyes nearly bugging out. The girl bobbed her head in a nod. Marius looked mortified, and thoroughly embarrassed.

“… Jean Luc… I… I apologize… dis is NOT what I… I mean t’ say…”

“Marius…” Jean Luc chuckled, holding up a hand. “As y’ said when y’ brought back m’ own wayward son a few weeks ago… I ain’t about t’ start a war over de antics o’ children.”

Marius studied Jean Luc for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Get outta dose clothes an’ get y’self a bath…” He growled, and his daughter scampered away. He then gave Jean Luc a weary look. “When y’ leavin’ again?” Jean Luc grinned and chuckled.

“End o’ de week…” He said.

“Merci Dieu…” Marius sighed, then turned. “Julien… ‘til dey be outta Paris… y’ mind y’ sister. She don’t leave de house, hear me?”

“Oui, Papa.” Julien nodded.

“Good evening.” Jean Luc nodded, and Marius returned the gesture as the Rom Baro mounted his horse and rode away…

And six days later, the pair nodded to each other once more as Marius, and BellaDonna, watched the Romani caravan pull out of Paris. Belle lifted a hand and sent a small wave after Remy, who was twisted around on his perch beside his papa on the wagon, and with a sad look, he waved goodbye to her too…

Jean Luc glanced down at his son. “Don’t look so depressed… next year, y’ won’t even look at ‘er twice…”

“Dat’s cause Remy only look once…” Remy mumbled, sadly. “An’ he neve’ look away again…”

“Oh, mon Dieu…” Jean Luc rolled his eyes to the Heavens at his son’s drama, but the put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, smiling when Remy leaned into him.

“Je taime, Papa…”

“I love you too, Remy.”


	14. Chapter 14

As the troupe continued to travel further from Paris, Jean Luc began to grow nervous and agitated. It was driving Remy crazy.

“Jus’ block it out!” Jean Luc snapped at one point, when Remy complained during dinner at the camp fire.

“Tryin’, me! Y’ feel too loud!” Remy complained right back, and the troupe looked on, amused.

“Alrigh’… dat be enough, de both o’ you.” Mattie had huffed. “Jean Luc, what de fuck is de problem?”

“T’inkin’ ‘bout whether o’ not we can afford t’… skip a stop.”

“Oh… Y’ mean Remy’s home town.” Henri concluded, and Remy’s eyes widened.

“… Oui.” Jean Luc nodded.

“But we got all dem fabrics fo’ Lord Nikolas!” One woman cried in horror. 

“Dat town be profitable fo’ us if de harvest was good!” A man called.

“I know!” Jean Luc barked. “But is it wort’ it, if dey try t’ hurt Remy?!”

“Ain’t scared o’ dem, Papa…” Remy said, straightening up… but everyone could feel the sudden flash of anxiety that zinged through their guts for a moment. Jean Luc stared at his son, then sighed and gave him a little smile of affection as the boy attempted to put on a brave front.

“Just ain’t willin’ t’ take any unnecessary risks…” He said, and Remy smiled.

“Gotta go back sometime, oui? An’ b’sides… Remy wanna check an’ see if m’ old stash still be dere!”

“Stash?” Jean Luc asked.

“Mais oui… jus’ a few small t’ings dat Remy kept hidden away…” Remy nodded, ducking his head and poking at his food.

“Might be nice t’ show dem fool priests dat we ain’t been overrun by demons…” Henri chuckled, and many others in the troupe echoed that sentiment.

“… Alright…” Jean Luc nodded. 

And a couple of weeks later, they were pulling in to their annual campsite as the sun reached its zenith. Remy stared up at the city walls from where he was perched on Voleur before his papa.

“Ready?” Jean Luc asked, looking down at his son.

“Mais oui, papa…” Remy nodded, and then smiled. “Laissez les bons temp rouler.”

“HAH!” Jean Luc barked out a laugh and guided his horse towards the town, flanked by Henri, Olivier, Jaques and Andre. Their entrance into town was interesting to say the least. Many looked eager to see the gypsies… and then they would spot Remy. They would watch surprise overtake their features, then recognition, confusion, and then realization… And then a plethora of emotions, none of which were positive. Jean Luc felt Remy shudder before him as he undoubtedly felt these emotions, and Jean Luc wrapped his arm around his boy and pulled him in tight against his chest, needing to protect and shelter the child as much as he could.

They were in the square then, and Jean Luc spotted Lord Nikolas, with his older son beside him. When Jean Luc approached Nikolas turned, a look of welcome on his face. But then he saw Remy, and his eyes widened. Then he was giving Jean Luc a look.

“I seem to recall saying that I never wanted to see that boy in my town again.” He drawled, and Jean Luc chuckled.

“Sure you would rat’er I kept an’ eye on de boy, den jus’ let ‘im run wild…” Jean Luc pointed out. “Told y’ I aimed t’ tame de boy.”

“And did you?”

“As much as a boy his age CAN be tamed.” Jean Luc snorted with a shrug, and after a moment, Nikolas laughed and the pair shook hands.

“Father Simon is going to have a fit.”

“No offense, m’lord… but dat man be a damned fool.”

“… I have nothing to say.” Nikolas stated evasively, making Jean Luc chuckle again. The lord’s young son was eyeing Remy, and Remy was eyeing him back. “Have you got any of my favorites this season?”

“Oui, I do… fantastic fabrics… some emerald greens and sapphire blues… An’ got some amethyst purples, too, as y’ requested.”

“Wonderful!” The man declared, “I shall see you well compensated!”

“Always a pleasure, m’lord.” Jean Luc nodded with a grin, and guided his horse away. After they were out of sight, he passed the reins to Remy. “Alright… off t’ yo’ lil’ hidey hole?”

“Mais oui…” Remy nodded, and guided Voleur through the streets… gradually, they were moving into the slums, which Jean Luc was not nearly as familiar with. But Remy guided the horse with a hand that was growing more and more practiced by the day. He halted the stallion for a moment, looking at the old stone bridge over the river. “Down dere…” He said softly, “is where most o’ de street kids live.”

“Most?” Jean Luc asked.

“… Not Remy.”

“Non? Pourquoi?”

“Even de ot’er kids didn’t like Remy’s eyes… would chase me away…” Remy admitted, and Jean Luc rubbed a hand up and down his son’s arm, bowing his face and kissing the top of Remy’s head. Remy snuggled against his papa and guided the horse across the bridge. 

They were on the edge of the docks now… Remy brought the horse to a halt by a merchant warehouse, and scrambled off. Jean Luc dismounted fluidly and tied the horse to a ring nailed into the wall for that purpose, and followed Remy. Remy had gone between the wall of the building and the wall of the town, and then, looking back and forth, he began to climb the wall. Jean Luc blinked, then followed. When they were almost at the top, Remy gathered himself and pushed off, leaping the chasm and landing on the merchant warehouse, gripping the ledge of a tiny window meant to bring in air circulation, and he wriggled though. Jean Luc followed, though fitting through the window for him was quite a bit more difficult, and came with several muttered curses and giggling from his son. 

He followed his nimble little mutant child across a beam over the piles of sacks and crates below, and out the window on the other side of the building. Remy was grinning as his papa had to manage to get out without falling to the ground below.

“Havin’ fun yet?” Remy asked, full of cheek. He yelped and scampered away, laughing when his papa took a swing at him, grinning and cursing. They scaled up to the roof and Remy leapt to the next warehouse over, slid down the roof and then jumped to the roof on what appeared to be a barn. He scrambled up the old shingles, his papa at his heels, and they arrived on the top. A small structure was there with a weathervane on top. Remy reached out to one of the wood panels on its walls and pushed it aside and slipped in. Jean Luc followed, dropping. He found himself in an old, dusty loft. Part of it appeared to have collapsed and been rebuilt at a lower level, but not connecting to what remained where he was perched, which was much higher up.

He stared. There was a small little hovel, about four feet wide and six feet deep… And he realized with a lurch of his stomach… this had been his son’s home… Moldy old rags and blankets were piled in the corner, once a bed for a starving, lonely child, and now bed for the vermin…

“Remy?” He murmured, softly. Remy just smiled.

“Kept sheltered from de wind up here, me.” He told his papa. “Dey would have a stove burnin’ below fo’ de animals… so was warm enough. Hard t’ get up here in de snow an’ ice… Didn’t always make it, me…”

“How?” Jean Luc asked.

“Well, if dere was too much snow, ice o’ wind, Remy would have t’ take de short way, t’rough de barn… but lot mo’ chance o’ gettin’ caught, oui?”

“I see…” Jean Luc nodded, his heart aching for his boy… knowing that THIS had been… home… “How long did y’… live here?”

“T’ree years?” Remy thought, cocking his head. “M’ firs’ winter afte’ runnin’ from de church, was able t’ hide in a chicken coop against de back o’ de baker… was ‘gainst de oven, so was warm. But dey found Remy an’… beat ‘im somet’in’ awful…” Remy made a face. “Hid in wit’ a widow’s goats after dat… den spring came… she died dat summer. Found dis place jus’ b’fo’ winter dat year. Saw squirrels comin’ in an’ out.”

Jean Luc nodded, watching Remy dig around in the mess that his little home had become in his absence. He pried up an old board and let out a soft cry of triumph. He pulled out a little wooden box, that looked ready to fall apart. “Got it!” He gasped, pleased. 

Jean Luc forced a smile and ruffled his boy’s head, but before he could say anything, there was a shout. 

“HEY!!! Who’s up there?! GET OUT!!!” Bellowed a man down below. Remy froze like a deer in headlights for a moment, then crept to the edge of the old loft and peered down. The man was scowling up, but then froze when he spotted the glowing red eyes.

“My God…”

“Uh, bonjour, Monsieur LeRoi…” He called down, and the man visibly startled at the verbal response. “Desole fo’ de intrusion. Was jus’ gettin’ somet’in’ I left b’hind las’ year, me!”

“Y-You’re… talking?!”

“Mais oui!” Remy exclaimed, and before his papa could stop him, he leapt from the loft, lightly bouncing off of a beam, flipping back, bouncing off of the wall and landing lightly before the man, who recoiled. “Seems dat Remy ain’t a demon afte’ all… Jus’ different.” And he smiled up at the horrified man. “Desole again fo’ de trespass. Be leavin’ now, me. Won’t be back again. C’mon, papa!” And he scampered for the door clutching his precious package to his chest. 

Mr. LeRoi startled back when Jean Luc dropped out of the loft and he stared in shock.

“You… you…”

“I’m de boy’s father, now.” He said sternly. “An’ despite what de priests in yo’ church may say, my soul be intact.” And then he reached into his purse and pulled out a good amount of money. “Know it ain’t much, but apparently, my boy was livin’ in de old loft b’fore I took him in… here. Consider dis a small token o’ my thanks an’ a bit o’ compensation fo’ uh… rent…” And he pressed the money into the stunned man’s hand, and strode out after his son.

“… Dat was close!” He heard Remy exclaim, and he looked up. His boy was up a tree, squatting on a thick branch and grinning. Jean Luc smiled and cocked his head. 

“Oh?”

“LeRoi would chase Remy wit’ a pitchfork whenever he caught me ‘round…” Remy exclaimed, laughing as he continued, “T’reatened t’ burn down ‘is own barn jus’ t’ get Remy out of it, once!” Jean Luc frowned and he and Remy both turned and watched the LeRoi man hurry down the street, shooting horrified glances back at them as he went.

“Now where he be goin’?” Jean Luc mused.

“Probly went t’ get de priests t’ bless de barn now dat Remy been in it…” The child snickered, and dropped to the ground by his papa. Jean Luc gave his son a look, then chuckled at the cheeky grin and shrug he was offered.

“Alright… let’s go get Voleur…” He sighed, and they returned to the horse, mounted up and headed off. As they approached the stone bridge over the river, a shout went up.

“Hey! It’s Remy!” 

Both riders turned, and spotted several thin, dirty children watching them from the shores of the river bed.

“Friends?” Jean Luc asked.

“… Not ‘xactly…?” Remy mumbled, and as they watched, the children fled into the town, glancing back over their shoulders anxiously as they went. “Remy don’t got friends. Not here.”

“Hn…” Jean Luc acknowledged softly, then guided the horse back towards camp on the outskirts of the city. Once back in camp, they gathered some food and went to their wagon, and there they sat side by side on Jean Luc’s bunk, and Remy opened the little box. There were several small objects… worthless baubles… little things of little value… the treasures of a child who had nothing…

There was a little necklace… a cross, made of nails and twine…

“Made dis when I was four.” Remy explained. “De priests beat me fo’ havin’ it. A demon child shouldn’t dare t’ touch de symbol o’ de Lord… Much less wear one.” He placed it into Jean Luc’s hand, not noticing the expression of shock and anger on the man’s face. “An’ dis was from a bird Remy took care of!” The child exclaimed, holding up a little feather. “Was a Crested Tit. An’ dis was a Nightingale! One had a broken wing, an’ de ot’er a hurt leg. Kept em til dey was better an’ could fly away!” Jean Luc smiled at the little boy, stroking his hair.

Then Remy picked up a little votive candle. “… When Remy was ‘bout five… Snuck into de church. Was de day afte’ my birthday… lit a candle fo’… fo’ my… mother.” He turned the wax in his fingers. “Was de anniversary o’ her death… Father Simon caught me prayin’ fo’ her…”

“… And?” Jean Luc asked.

“… beat Remy somet’in’ awful…” The child whispered. “Said dat Remy had no right t’ be in de church… no right t’ light a candle, an’ dat Remy’s mother had no right t’ have a candle lit fo’ her, neither… said dat I was de son o’ de devil an’ m’ mother was de whore dat sold her soul t’ him. Dat she was t’ burn in hell fo’ all eternity, an’ so would Remy… He put out de candle an’ threw it at Remy’s head… picked it up an’ ran… Never went back, neit’er… Dat was when I ran away from de church…”

Remy picked up a dried flower then… “Picked dis in de spring… tried t’ leave it as an’ offerin’ fo’ de Holy Mother, Mary… Dey… threw it on de ground an’ stomped on it and… belted Remy ‘cross de face…”

Then he smiled, picking up an old, yellowed hanky wrapped around something. “Dis was from a fine lady dat came afte’ Lord Nikolas’ wife died… She was de daughter of a widow who wanted t’ marry him. We was t’ be welcoming. Wanted t’ see de festival, me… so… stole some nice clothes off a line an’ went… Brought ‘er flowers an’ she gave me dis. But den ‘er mama saw m’ eyes… an’ Remy was chased away. Returned de clothes, me… so dey wouldn’t hunt me down…”

“And what’s this?” Jean Luc asked, watching as Remy unwrapped the hanky from what appeared to be a black metal medallion. Remy picked it up and turned it over. Jean Luc’s eyes widened at the large gleaming red ruby in a cut diamond shape.

“Remy don’t know…” The child confessed, and traced the diamond. “Broke into Father Simon’s office an’ found it. It was taken from m’ mother when Remy was born… Dat’s all I know, me…” They both stared at it for a moment, and then Remy gathered the little things together and placed them back into the box, closing it up. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The morning dawned crisp and cool with the arrival of autumn. Remy dressed warmly and slipped from the wagon to go and tend to Brouillard and Minuit, part of his morning chores. He scrambled up onto Minuit’s back to take her for a short ride, Brouillard tethered to her. The town was coming to life within its walls, and workers were checking over the fields for any residual harvest, but for the most part it was a week for rest and celebration for the harvest.

The morning was peaceful, but it didn’t last. The child’s developing empathy was what warned him… he felt it… dark emotions… He drew up Minuit and turned, eyes scanning the area… and then he saw them. Guards. And… Father Simon. Remy felt the fear rise…

Father Simon waved the guards back and they stopped, while the priest approached.

“So it is true…” The man said as he drew close. “You have returned.”

“Jus’ anot’er stop on de road, Pere Simon…” Remy responded, and the man looked startled. “When de troupe move on, Remy go wit’ dem. Ain’t got no desire t’ stay here, me…”

“So… You ARE speaking again…” The man observed, his eyes hardening.

“Mais oui…” Remy nodded. “Dis boy’s voice only got power dat the words demselves give. Ain’t not’in special o’ dif’rent ‘bout it… M’ eyes don’t burn no one dat look into dem, an’ de only evil dat men do ‘round me be DIRECTED at me… So in de end… Remy ain’t a demon afte’ all.” And he smiled happily. The priest looked flabbergasted. “Turns out, Remy be somet’in’ called a mutant. Dat’s all. Different… an’ got strange powers… but still human, me. An’ mon pere was one, too. Wasn’t no demon. Met a few folk on de road like me, too… An’ de more demonic dey look… de less human dey look… de more human dey be! Dey show kindness t’ all… love… charity. Dey forgive. In’erestin’ how de men dat be called evil for how dey look, be de men dat be more pious dan ot’ers, eh, Pere Simon?” And he gave the priest a sly smile.

“An’ b’fore y’ ask…” Remy and the priest both jumped and turned, and Remy smiled when his papa appeared, striding through the tall, yellowing grass. “My soul is still intact.” Jean Luc finished, glaring at the priest. “As are all de rest in my troupe.” He reached Minuit and reached up. Remy allowed his papa to lift him off of her back and bring him down into a tight hug against his chest.

“Bonjour, Papa.” Remy greeted with a smile, kissing the man’s cheek.

“Told y’ t’ stay in camp, Remy.”

“… But… always take Minuit and Brouillard fo’ a ride in de mornin’…” Remy pointed out, frowning in confusion. Jean Luc nodded, tensing when he heard the guards beginning to move in. Remy gasped slightly at the sudden wrath that he felt from his father, and he struggled to draw up his shields and tighten them. He wondered about the cause of the rage…

He didn’t know, and would never know, that Jean Luc had recognized one of the guards as the one who had left his handprint as a bruise on Remy’s inner thigh from restraining him… the guard who had looked at the child with such… dark, twisted hunger and desire, just before Jean Luc had spoken up and demanded to take the child. And this same guard, to his fury, was eyeing Remy now with that same look… 

He promptly placed himself before Remy and stared the guard straight in the eye, warning him off with a fierce look. The guard looked startled at being caught, but then sneered at the Rom Baro.

“State y’ business wit’ my son.” He growled to the priest.

“… I cannot, in good conscience, allow the boy to stay with you.” The priest said. “No matter what lies you have been feeding him, or he has been feeding you, he is a demon and he must be purged from this world. And I must see it done.”

Jean Luc felt his son’s hand grip his trousers tightly, and he felt the boy’s fear bubbling up. Jean Luc reached a hand back and gripped Remy’s arm.

“Y’ ain’t gonna come near de boy.”

“I cannot allow you to—“

“NON!!!” Jean Luc cut off Father Simon. “We take dis up wit’ Lord Eatros.” He growled. “NOW. C’mon, Remy. We gon’ put up Minuit an’ Brouillard.” And he spun on his heel and stalked away, one arm around Remy and his other hand on Minuit’s halter. Once in camp, he let out a bellow that had everyone running. Remy found himself being held by his Tante Mattie as the camp was in sudden uproar, and then all of the men, and Mattie, were mounted up… and armed. And then Remy found himself upon Voleur before his papa, with Henri on the left and Mattie on the right, and the men of the troupe were riding into town, as the women and children behind them began to pack up in case they had to take their leave… fast…

“Papa?” Remy gasped, looking up at the man.

“Shhh… we gon’ settle dis bullshit. NOW.” Jean Luc growled. “Ain’t gonna let dem touch y’… Dey ain’t gonna hurt you, kill you, dey ain’t gonna scare you, ever again!”

Remy just gulped and slouched down, the anxiety choking him…

In the front courtyard a crowd had already gathered… the clergy and guards were on one side, and Jean Luc and his Romani stood on the other. After a few minutes, the doors to the modest castle opened and Lord Nikolas Eatros strode out, looking quite annoyed.

“Alright, what the devil is going on?!” He demanded, his two young sons peering out from behind him.

“The devil is exactly what is going on, milord.” Father Simon declared, bowing slightly to the man. Several Romani snarled and cursed at the priest, and Jean Luc stepped forward.

“Only cuz y’ got de devil on de mind an’ y’ be too stubborn an’ pigheaded t’ look beyond fo’ any ot’er explanation, no matter how much mo’ reasonable it might be!”

“Enough!” Lord Eatros commanded, holding up his hands to silence the priest, and the Rom Baro. “Father Simon… short and to the point, please.”

“… This man has taken in the son of Lucifer and his existence is a threat to us all. The boy must be burned, for the sake of our immortal souls!!!” The priests, guards, and the few people from the town cheered.

“Monsieur LeBeau?” Lord Eatros asked, turning to the man.

“De boy ain’t a devil, he’s a mutant. Human, but wit’ strange changes. Make ‘im look different. I lived wit’ him in close quarters fo’ a year now, an’ not once have I ever seen anyt’ing in him dat be o’ de devil. Aside from a rather large temper tantrum dat will NOT be repeated, oui?”

“… Oui Papa!” Remy gasped, nodding vigorously as he turned red in his embarrassment, his eyes wide and his hands immediately going to grab onto his own bottom, protectively. Titters ran through the Romani.

“I have… heard of these so-called mutants…” Lord Eatros mused, and Father Simon made a double take, horrified. “Extraordinary children, born to ordinary parents… Both peasantry and nobility… God-fearing Christians and savage heathens… These creatures are born to them all…”

“These are demons!” Father Simon cried.

“I do not think so.” Eatros dismissed the man with the flick of his fingers, and then looked down at Remy, who gulped and stared back with wide eyes… and then… he reached out the man with his empathy… he was startled at what he felt… Worry… determination… anxiety and secrecy… he was… hiding something. Remy tried something… he twisted the man’s emotions and brought out… sympathy.

Jean Luc gripped Remy’s shoulders. “My Lord… It ain’t right t’ punish an innocent child ‘cause o’de fear and ignorance of y’ people. But I understand dat you be de Lord. All I ask is, should y’ side wit’ dem, allow me t’ take my son in peace and we shall be gone by sundown… But please accept dat dis visit will be our last.”

A wave of murmurs swept through the town… the Romani were very important to their economy… they brought them goods that they could get no other way, and purchased goods from them to take on and trade elsewhere… For the Romani to stop coming every year would hurt the town… and everyone knew that…

Eatros narrowed his eyes and stared at Jean Luc, as if inspecting him to find any hint that he might be bluffing. When his frown deepened, it was clear that he had found no such thing; the Rom Baro was serious.

“And if we do not allow you to take the boy?” Father Simon demanded to know. There was only a moment’s pause, and then shouts of alarm burst from the townsfolk as the Romani, as one, drew their weapons.

“We will fight our way out.” Jean Luc stated simply. “Dis child is one of us. An’ he is my son. I love ‘im dearly. An’ I will fight fo’ him. I will protect him. To my las’ breath.”

The gypsies behind him let out a cheer, letting all know that they backed their Rom Baro in this.

“Then the devil has already laid claim to your people!” Father Simon nearly shrieked.

“An’ yo’ misguided good intentions already be well on de way t’ paving y’ a road t’ hell!” Jean Luc snapped back.

The silence was deafening. And all eyes were drawn to the small voice that had broken it.

“M’lord…” Remy spoke, his voice trembling a bit. “Got no ill will t’ anyone here, me… If it please y’, Remy keep t’ de camp. Won’t be seen nor heard wit’in de walls of de city... an’ Remy swear, b’fo’ God hisself, an’ all de angels in heaven… won’t never raise a hand to no one, save in defense o’ myself o’ ot’ers… Promise, me…”

The Lord eyed the child for a very long time. His internal debate played out over his face. A moment later, and he turned his head and looked down. His oldest son had curled his fingers around his wrist, and was looking up at him. Eatros stared at his son for a moment, and then sighed and nodded.

“Very well. I believe that would be for the best at this time.” And then he looked at Jean Luc. “Take your son back to your camp. He is to remain there. Next year, perhaps we can revisit that… restriction.”

Jean Luc stared at the Lord, and then sighed and nodded.

“D’accord,” he said. “I accept.”

Father Simon stepped forward, taking a breath to speak out in protest, but Eatros held up his hand to silence him.

“There is no proof that this child is the son of Satan. You yourself admit that he does not fit… Holy Water does not burn him. He can look upon the image of our Lord and Savior without distress. He does not flinch back at the name of God, nor does he flee from prayer. He has tread on Holy Ground and within the church itself multiple times without consequence. He can recite the Lord’s Prayer, and can speak the name of God. The only evidence that you have, are his eyes. That alone is not enough to condemn a child to be burned at the stake. I will not have justice in this town meted out through hysteria. That is not justice, it is a travesty.

“That boy is a great sinner—“

“Aren’t we all?” Mattie laughed. “B’lieve y’ Lord an’ Savior himself said ‘let he among you wit’out sin be de firs’ t’ condemn, non? B’lieve dat be a fancy way o’ sayin’, mind’ y’ own damn business, ain’t no one got de right t’ judge anot’er.” The priest looked furious, and a bit humiliated as well. 

Eatros turned to Jean Luc. “I suggest you remove the boy before this escalates…”

“I agree.” Jean Luc nodded. “Merci beaucoup… Your wisdom an’ fairness are recognized an’ appreciated. An’ shall be spoken of.” 

Eatros nodded, looking pleased, and with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the people in the courtyard and went back inside. As his sons turned to follow him, Remy caught the eye of the older boy. A strange, piercing gold, Remy sucked in a breath when the boy smiled slightly at him, and a flicker of purple seemed to pass over the boy’s eyes, like the flame on a candle, before it disappeared and the doors closed behind him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone... writer's block is a bitch...

“De Lord’s son… he be a mutant.” Remy declared through his shirt as it was lifted over his head. Jean Luc blinked at the muffled announcement and managed to get it off of his child’s head, the boy’s rusty colored hair crackling and standing up in the most outlandish fashion, courtesy of the static buildup.

“Say what now?”

“De Lord Eatros… his son, de older one… he be a mutant!” Remy repeated, running his hands over his hair, trying to push it out of his face and smooth it down; it wasn’t working.

“An’ what makes y’ say dat?” Jean Luc asked with a smile, helping Remy out of his trousers and chuckling at the little yip from the boy when there was a little pop and shock when his fingers brushed over Remy’s hip. “Desole…”

“Well… when you an’ Lord Eatros was talkin’ ‘bout mutants, could feel dat he was hidin’ somet’in, me.”

“Oh?”

“An’ den, when he went back inside, his son looked at me… an’ Remy saw fire… purple fire!”

“Where?”

“In ‘is eyes, papa!”

“… Did y’ now?” Jean Luc asked, eyeing his son.

“Mais oui!” Remy nodded.

“Hmmm…” His papa mused as he soaked a cloth in the warm bowl of water on his desk and started scrubbing his son down, after gently running it over his hair to rid the boy of the static buildup, and the wild hair it was causing. “Should Remy give ‘im a card?”

Jean Luc frowned. “Don’t t’ink so… dey be fo’ dose dat need help. He seem t’ be alright… ‘specially if his papa be protectin’ ‘im… We wait an’ see, d’accord?”

“D’accord,” Remy agreed, pulling on his long nightshirt that fell to his knees, and the light pants that went with it. Then he stomped his feet into his boots and pulled on the dark brown cloak his papa had given him and trotted out to the fire with the man for dinner.

There, he told his Tante Mattie about what he had discovered about the Lord and his son, and she listened attentively, but agreed with Jean Luc about not giving the boy a card, and not letting anyone know what he had discovered… the safety of many counted on that… the Lord and his son… both of them… the troupe, Remy himself…

It was decided that unless something had to be done, they would, for the time being, do nothing.

As promised, Remy spent the rest of the week ensconced in camp, getting some extra lessons, helping his Tante Mattie and spending some extra time with Brouillard. And then they were off on the final leg of their journey… the days grew colder, frost was often on the ground and then the first snow rolled in a few days before their arrival at the winter village. They had actually pushed hard to get there as soon as they could, for fear of finding themselves snow bound… they started out earlier and pushed later, but it paid off and they arrived at the Romani village two days before an early blizzard decided to descend upon them.

One of the first things that Remy did was to seek out Gerard, and thank him profusely for selling Brouillard to his papa, and allowing them to take Minuit with them for the year… Gerard reciprocated by gushing over how big Brouillard had grown, and how handsome he was looking to be, even as he laughed at the thick winter coat…

“Come spring,” he said to Remy with a grin, “all dis ridiculous fluff gon’ fall out, an’ we may see de colt’s adult coat an’ coloring.” He leaned in, parting the thick fuzz as much as he could and peering down at the skin. “Look like he gon’ be dark in color… skin be a dark gray… see?” Remy nodded, mimicking the man. “He gon’ be weaned be de time y’ roll out next year… gon’ be on ‘is own. Y’ gon’ take care o’ him?”

“Mais oui!” Remy cried indignantly, looking insulted that Gerard even asked. The man roared with laughter at the disgruntled boy, and teased him about it every chance he got over the winter…

Jean Luc couldn’t wait for winter to end and to get back onto the road… this winter was a particularly cold and snowy one, and Remy was not doing well being kept cooped up… day by day he grew more and more restless… and if Remy was restless, so was anyone near him… and not just because he would accidentally project his frustrations… restless Remy had to find an outlet for his endless energy, and that usually ended up being at the expense of the patience of others. If he wasn’t bouncing off the walls he was running at the mouth, and was quick to get on people’s nerves… sometimes it was on purpose, but often it wasn’t.

He couldn’t sit still for his lessons… he hated learning to write, and didn’t seem too fond of reading, either. Though he was getting better, he constantly complained that the material he was given to read was boring, and he was constantly fidgeting and daydreaming when he was supposed to be reading. 

Every chance he got he disappeared from under his papa’s watchful eye, and usually ended up in the stable. It was warm there, he could play with Brouillard and also get out some energy, scrambling about and climbing the stalls, the lofts, disappearing up into the dark shadows of the rafters… Jean Luc didn’t mind in general, the snow was too deep for Remy to do much more aside from dig through it… but it was frustrating, trying to pin the boy down for his lessons when he really didn’t want to do them.

Remy probably spent about a third of the winter grounded to the wagon, which Jean Luc felt was a punishment for them both… sometimes, he wanted to strangle the boy… the only time Remy was still and quiet was when he was asleep. And sometimes, not even then. He would frequently babble in his sleep, which was adorable when Jean Luc was awake and working at his desk, but aggravating when he was trying to sleep.

Winter had come early, and stayed late… There was still snow on the ground the day the troupe rolled out to begin the new season. Remy, now eleven, had perched himself on the roof of the wagon to watch and encourage Brouillard, who was tethered to the back. The colt was prancing along with mincing steps, sometimes bucking a bit… over the last couple of weeks, they had begun to start to train the yearling, and he didn’t care for the saddle blanket on his back, or the girth strap that wrapped under his belly. He tossed his head and snorted, skittering sideways and kicking his heels as he tried to rid himself of his irritating burden. The two other yearlings with them weren’t pleased either, but were handling it a bit better than Remy’s young horse…

A few days in and he seemed to settle. And so they started to drape sacks of grain on his back. He was not pleased with this, but accepted them quickly, and after a month on the road, he was carrying a weight equal to Remy. And so began the riding.

The first time Remy sat astride his horse, it was just for a few minutes, and they didn’t go anywhere. Jean Luc simply held the horse by the halter and stroked his neck, talking softly to him, and keeping him calm and soothed… the thick dark brown fur took to the air as he rubbed his hand over it… Brouillard was shedding his winter coat… And with it, the last of his baby fur.

As his adult colors began to become visible, it attracted a lot of attention… Remy eagerly groomed him every night, eyes shining as more and more of the colt’s color appeared…

“Gray, papa!” Remy exclaimed happily one evening. 

“Roan, Remy.” Jean Luc corrected. “Broulliard be a blue roan. He gon’ be a handsome devil…”

“Like me?” Remy asked with a grin, and then fled at the raised hand from his papa. Jean Luc chuckled and shook his head as his laughing son disappeared around a wagon.

In that first month on the road, however, it wasn’t just Brouillard showing signs of growing up…

Jean Luc was in for a rude awakening one night… literally…

At first he thought nothing of it… God knew it wasn’t the first time that the man had woken in the middle of the night to find that he had… climaxed in his sleep. And God knew, it wasn’t going to be the last. He had simply rolled his eyes over the fact that he would have to move to clean himself up, when he felt it…

Drowsy confusion…

And then the sleepy mumble from the bunk above his own.

“… What de…?” He heard Remy breathe, and then a soft intake of breath… the confusion deepened, and then there was surprise, shock, and then horror… humiliation. And then a whimper and frantic movements.

“Remy?” He called, frowning at the gasp he got in response.

“P-Papa?!” The child cried, projecting his fear and embarrassment… dear God, the boy was near tears!

“Remy, what’s wrong?!” Jean Luc blurted, throwing back his blankets and rising from the bed, the mess in his pants forgotten. He was standing now, and looking at Remy who was backed into the wall and clutching his blankets to his chest. His slightly luminous eyes were wide and shining as tears gathered. “Remy?”

The boy sobbed slightly, and Jean Luc turned and lit a candle. He turned back and took in Remy’s red face and expression of abject horror.

“Remy…” He gasped, reaching out to his son. “Mon fils? What’s wrong?”

Remy swallowed, a loud, thick gulp, as tears ran down his face. “I… I t’ink… Papa… t’ink dat Remy wet de bed…” He managed to whimper. 

Jean Luc blinked a couple of times, and then his eyes widened.

“Oh.” Then his eyes widened even more. “OH! Merde…” He exclaimed as it hit him like a charging bull… his eleven year old son had just had his first… nocturnal emission… and with his empathy… in his sleep, he had affected Jean Luc, so HE had had a… well…

Shit. 

This was going to get awkward… 

He was jerked out of his thought process by Remy’s mounting distress.

“Desole, papa! Remy sorry!” The boy cried.

“Non, non, not upset, me. S’alright, Remy… everyt’ing be fine… C’mere, let’s see what we got…”

Crying, Remy let his papa lift him down from the bunk. Jean Luc calmly stripped his son, helped him clean up and get into fresh nightclothes, and then saw him tucked in again. “Everyt’ing be alright, Remy, no harm done… We talk ‘bout dis in de morning…” Jean Luc told Remy. “Dis ain’t not’in t’ be upset about. It happens. Now get some sleep…”

“Quoi?” Remy asked.

“Shhhh… In de morning, fils…”

And in the morning, Jean Luc sat at the fire, holding his breakfast and staring off into space.

“Jean Luc…” Mattie said, coming over and plopping down beside him. “What be on y’ mind?”

He blinked himself back into awareness and looked at her, then looked over at Remy, who was talking animatedly with Henri over their breakfast.

“Remy uh… well… He growin’ up.” Jean Luc started, weakly.

“Mm-hm?” Mattie nodded. “Children do dat…”

“Last night, Remy had a dream an’ uh… well… climaxed.”

“… Fo’ de firs’ time?” Mattie asked.

“Judgin’ by his reaction, oui.” Jean Luc nodded. “Very upset, panickin’, t’ought he’d wet de bed.”

“… Y’ ain’t talked t’ de boy ‘bout growin up yet?!”

“It ain’t ‘zactly been on m’ To Do List! An’ most boys his age know already!”

“De boy been on de streets, Jean Luc. He ain’t got no one t’ tell him nothin’!”

“Je sais, je sais… Jus’… neve’ t’ought ‘bout it, oui?”

“Mm-hm…” The woman nodded, narrowing her eyes and studying him. “What else?”

“… Well… his empat’y…”

“Oui?”

“De boy don’t really control it in ‘is sleep… he… projects.”

Mattie blinked, and then her eyes widened. “He affected you!”

“… Oui… s’what woke me up.”

“Hm.” Mattie grunted, grinning. He gave her a look.

“So uh… since y’ be de healer dat take care o’ everyone… You know de body… t’ought dat y’ could talk t’ Remy t’day… explain t’ings to ‘im an—“

“Ohhhh ho ho ho NO!” Mattie laughed, waggling a finger at the Rom Baro. “I don’t t’ink so, homme!” Jean Luc looked startled, and the others all turned, curious. “Nice try. YOU adopted de boy, Jean Luc. YOU be his Papa. Don’t y’ go tryin’ t’ skip out on dis. You do yo’ duty as a father, an YOU talk t’ yo’ son!” And she rose and bustled away, still laughing.

Henri, who had been eavesdropping, grinned and called “I sit in! Make sure nut’in be left out, Oui?”

“De only t’ing dat be left out, be YOU!” Jean Luc snapped. “Fo’ de night watch! Tonight!”

Henri’s eyes widened and he put on a look of dismay as the other Romani laughed.

After breakfast, the gypsies broke camp and headed out. Jean Luc walked for about a mile, leading Brouillard with Remy on his back, getting the pair used to traveling together like this. It would strengthen their muscles, and strengthen their bond. And when they broke for lunch, Jean Luc steeled himself and asked Mattie to drive his wagon for the afternoon while he took Remy into the wagon for the much needed… discussion.

Remy was confused when his Papa pulled him into the wagon and latched the door before setting himself down at his desk chair, while Remy perched on the edge of his papa’s bunk.

“Remy do somet’in, papa?” 

“Non, y’ ain’t in trouble.” Jean Luc sighed. “We uh… we need t’ talk ‘bout… what happened last night.”

Remy’s eyes widened and he flushed in embarrassment.

“Y’ didn’t wet de bed, Remy.” Jean Luc sighed. “You uh… well… Guess y’ be headin’ in t’ puberty.”

“… puberty. Y’ said dat be when a boy b’come a man?”

“Oui. Dere be a process. Dat be part of it.”

“… Squirtin’ in m’ pants?!” Remy nearly shrieked. Jean Luc winced, then sighed and settled in and began to explain the process of puberty and what would come with it… like nocturnal emissions… For some reason, this conversation was so much more awkward than when he’d had it with Henri. One highlight was when Remy, with an incredulous expression, tugged out the front of his pants and blatantly glared down at his own immature penis, before blurting “… it can DO dat?! It bette’ not!!! Dat’s jus’ freaky!” Jean Luc almost failed to keep a straight face.

By the time the troupe stopped to make camp for the night, everyone had heard of what discussion was taking place in the Rom Baro’s wagon, and so when the man and his son finally emerged, everyone was pretending to be busy, while watching them. Jean Luc looked weary, and Remy just looked… overwhelmed and a bit confused. As they made their way over to the fire, Remy was saying “Dat be why BellaDonna’s papa t’reatened Remy?”

“… He threatened you?!” Jean Luc blurted, looking down at his son as he accepted a hard drink from a sympathetic father of three.

“Mais oui!” Remy nodded. “He say dat if he eve’ suspect Remy tryin’ t’ get under Belle’s skirts an’ between her legs, he gon’ gut me! Don’t understand! Why would Remy want in her skirts?” And he looked up at his papa with sincere confusion. “What’s between her legs?”

Jean Luc choked and spewed his drink into the campfire pit that had just been dug. Henri and several others were now laughing uproariously. Remy blinked, looking around in confusion.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, and then, frowning and chewing at his lower lip, he said, “Papa? What DO girls got down dere?” All eyes were on the father-son duo now, one chattering away while the other just looked more and more panicked with every moment. “I mean, seen de paintin’s in de churches, an’ in de nice houses dat we rob…” Remy continued. “Like Adam an’ Eve, oui? See dey be different, but don’t really see much on Eve, yeah? ‘Cept she be bigger… up here…” And he gestured to his own chest.

“Uh, t’ink dat girls be a lesson fo’ anot’er day, d’accord?” Jean Luc wheezed. Remy blinked at his papa then, but shrugged and agreed, and then went to help gather firewood.

Jean Luc looked around at his troupe and, glaring, snarled, “Not. One. Word.” And then he threw back the rest of his drink and held the cup out, silently demanding an immediate refill. Everyone within reach of some type of alcohol scurried to comply…

Dinner was an eventful affair. Every now and then Remy, who otherwise was in silent contemplation, would blurt out the most outlandish questions… There was nothing like fielding questions about pubic hair or nipples while trying to eat your evening meal… To Jean Luc’s dismay, the rest of the troupe was getting a real kick out of it, and he knew he would never be allowed to live it down… Especially when Remy tugged his pants and eyed his… boyhood in front of everyone, and then went back to eating, scowling and muttering to himself… He could see several of the troupe in tears from the laughter they were desperately holding back…

And if dinner weren’t bad enough, Remy had come up with more questions by breakfast… So an encore performance was given before Jean Luc sent Remy off to ready Brouillard for the day’s travel. The Rom Baro was more than a bit relieved when they were finally underway, himself on Voleur and leading Brouillard by the tether on his halter, with Remy upon his back. Now he had the chance to divert Remy’s attention away from his… genitals… and onto something a bit more appropriate for public conversation.

“We gon’ start introducin’ Brouillard to de bit next week.” He told his son. “Dat, an’ de ear piece gon’ be de hard parts o’ de bridle. We start easy, jus’ like wit’ de blanket an’ de weight. Gradually. Once he ain’ fightin’ t’ take de bit, we get de ear pieces on an’ den get all de straps tightened right. Once dat be done an’ he be fine wit’ de bridle, we start longeing. Dat’ll be a learnin’ exercise fo’ you too, mon fils. But I’m gon’ be wit’ y’ every step of de way, d’accord?”

“Oui, papa.” Remy smiled, stroking Brouillard’s neck. The colt was growing accustomed very well to Remy’s light weight on his back, and had begun to protest having the sacks of grain instead… Jean Luc was pleased by the trust that had built between the boy and the colt.

“What den?” Remy asked, curiously. 

“Once we start de longeing, we start trainin’ him wit’ de verbal commands. Start wit’ ‘halt’ an’ ‘walk’.”

“Oui?”

“Den we go on from dere.” Jean Luc smiled, glancing back at his son.

“An’ dat is?”

“Saddle breakin’ ‘im. Suspect we be back at de winter village by den. So we ain’t gon’ try til’ we dere. We see ‘bout getting him a proper saddle made, an’ do de saddle breakin’ over winter… Den we start out next year wit’ him wearin’ de saddle. By de end o’ spring, I want you IN it. By de NEXT winter, want you an’ Brouillard bot’ comfortable wit’ ridin’ t’gether at an easy travellin’ pace. Den dat winter, when de weather permits, gon’ have one o’ de ridin’ masters take ove’ wit de two o’ you. When we ride out when you be thirteen an’ Brouillard be three, want de two o’ you t’ be a proper horse an’ rider team.”

“Dat long?!” Remy cried in dismay. Jean Luc smiled.

“It be a long process, Remy… gotta take it slow an’ easy. Horses can be skittish. Iff’n y’ scare ‘em o’ spook ‘em or hurt ‘em… could set back de breakin’ by weeks, even MONTHS, t’ build up de trust again t’ de point where y’ lost it… Part o’ de reason you been part o’ his life since de moment he was born! You two buildin’ a STRONG bond… but y’ gotta be careful not t’ break it, Remy...”

He sighed and looked down at his little boy. “Like us…”

“I trust you, papa.” Remy assured him.

Jean Luc smiled, lifting Remy off of Brouillard and set him before him on Voleur, hugging him tightly and kissing his head. “Oui… You trust me… But only as long as I don’t break it.”

“… je comprends, Papa.” Remy nodded.


	16. Chapter 16

Spring festivals were quickly under way. At every stop in a city, town or village, there was a celebration. Remy eagerly took part in them all now, though Jean Luc still kept a watchful eye on him, and in the larger towns and cities, Remy had to be with an adult at all times; Jean Luc was still concerned about the trouble that Remy’s eyes could bring. He also maintained Remy’s pick pocketing limit, though now, Remy was coming on more burglaries with the troupe. He continued his astonishing advances in his acrobatics, and consistently impressed his papa with his improving skill with the bo staff, and with the throwing knives.

They were midway through spring when they made a stop that they hadn’t made the last year… Of course, Remy wasn’t as familiar with the troupe’s stops, so he didn’t know that it was anything unusual, though he did look curious when his papa gave the command for them to set up a more permanent camp… something that they would set up on their stops at towns to stay a few days, rather than just the overnight rest before picking up travel the next day. But he pitched in and helped to set up the camp. 

He did notice a lot of whispering going on, and with his empathy, he felt the mass of swirling confusion gradually change to understanding and excitement as the whispers went around. He spent a good hour that afternoon hounding people… his brother, Henri, his Tante Mattie, his papa, his teachers, Olivier and Andre… A few of the others… but they would just grin and shoo him away. It was getting on his nerves.

As the sun was setting, and dinner was being prepared, Remy was finally let in on the surprise. Horses were approaching, and then the wind picked up. And then, over the trees, a figure appeared… Remy’s eyes widened.

“… STORMY!!!” He shrieked, and bolted.

The young woman, who had grown several inches and was beginning to develop a more womanly body, descended and touched down lightly, smiling and saying “Do NOT call me ‘Stormy’.” And then they were hugging tightly. “You look well, brother!”

Beyond them, Jean Luc was moving to greet Charles Xavier as he rode into camp, with Dr. Hank McCoy, the lady Jean Grey, and Scott Summers. The boy, Bobby Drake, and the young exiled Lord Warren Worthington III were not with them.

“He’s grown.” Xavier was smiling as he accepted Jean Luc’s hand and studied Remy from afar.

“So has de lady.” Jean Luc nodded. “Come! Come! Dinner be jus’ about ready!” And the mutants moved to join the troupe by the fire. Remy and Ororo were already sitting there, chattering away. Remy listened with rapt attention as Storm told him about how she was developing and strengthening her powers, and Remy began to tell her about his empathy, and how it was developing and how he was learning to control it. Xavier, Jean and Hank listened in on this very closely, while Scott Summers struck up a conversation with Henri LeBeau.

And then Remy was scrambling to his feet saying “Stormy, y’ gotta come see m’ Brouillard!”

Jean Luc didn’t even look up from his meal as he shot a hand out and grabbed the boy by the seat of his pants as he darted past, saying “Nuh-uh. Y’ sit yo’ hyper ass down an’ finish y’ dinner, Remy LeBeau.” Titters went around the campfire as Remy whined, “ah, papaaaaa!!! But—“

“Don’t y’ ‘but’ me o’ yo’ papa gon’ smack yours. Now sit.”

And Remy plopped down and picked up his bowl again, a disgruntled look on his face. Then he yelped as he was rapped on the head with a ladle.

“Don’t slouch! Sit up straight, boy. An’ wipe dat ugly look offa yo’ face b’fo’ it freeze like dat.” Mattie scolded, and Remy scowled at her. She raised the ladle again, giving him a warning look. He winced and straightened up, schooling his face into a neutral expression. But then he stiffened and jerked his head up, narrowing his eyes and glaring at Xavier.

The man blinked, and smiled. “Very good. You felt my touch against your shields.”

“What y’ tryin’ t’ do, mec?” Remy snarled, defensively. “OW!” 

“Be polite!” Mattie snapped after whacking him on the head with the ladle again.

“I was checking the state of your shields.” Xavier said calmly. “They are stronger, but you still have developed the presence of mind to feel when they are being touched, and tested. That is very good.”

“Why y’ need t’ know dat?” Remy asked, eyeing his Tante, warily.

“Well… I would like to work with you on them while I can over the next couple of days.” Xavier told him. “I’d like to know where they are and how they have developed over the past year. You seem to be doing very well, my boy.”

“He has been.” Jean Luc nodded. “He been workin’ on learnin’ t’ block out ot’ers, keep himself reigned in, but can also intentionally open hisself up t’ individuals, o’ a crowd… Absorb emotions.”

“Fascinating…” Xavier nodded, looking very interested indeed. “May we start to work together in the morning, my young friend?”

Remy eyed him, then nodded, saying “Suppose dat be alrigh’…”

“Den as soon y’ done wit’ Brouillard,” Jean Luc declared, “Y’ meet wit’ monsieur Xavier.”

“If you don’t mind,” Xavier said, “I would like to observe him working with his horse… get a feel for his shields when he’s focusing on something else.”

“I’d rather y’ didn’t…” Jean Luc protested, shaking his head. “Breakin’ a horse be delicate work. De boy need all his faculties… can’t have ‘im distracted wit’ knowin’ y’ be dere an’ peepin’ in on ‘im…”

“Of course. I understand.” Xavier acquiesced. “Afterwards, then.”

And in the morning, he had his breakfast and observed Remy from afar… Jean Luc had the boy up before the sun and working. Brouillard had taken to the bridle and was wearing it fully, bit and all. Now they were longeing… teaching the horse to move and respond to commands, verbal and non, at the end of a long tether on his bridle. Jean Luc was instructing Remy very carefully, as he was training both the horse, and his supposed trainer, at the same time. 

Xavier watched the father-son duo, and felt a smile come to his lips. He had pulled Jean Luc aside the night before after Remy had been sent to bed, and asked that he look in on Remy’s shields from a distance, without him knowing. He had assured the man that he would mask his presence as best he could, to try and not distract the boy. Jean Luc had granted him permission…

Now, Xavier reached out to the boy’s mind, and immediately felt a wave of warmth flood over him; a child’s love for his papa.

“What has you smiling like that, my friend?” Hank McCoy asked, moving to sit beside the man.

“The boy…” Xavier admitted. “His emotions… here… let me share what I can feel from him…”

McCoy nodded, and allowed Xavier to touch his mind. He gasped softly, and felt a smile tugging at his on face. “My word…” He sighed, turning to watch the pair. Jean Luc was grinning and saying something. Remy looked up at him, beaming, and the two observing mutants felt a swell in the love and the joy. They were grinning like utter fools, and they knew it.

“Truly beautiful…” Xavier sighed.

“Indeed. A happier child there never was.”

“He has lived without this simple joy.” Xavier nodded. “He does not take it for granted. He savors it.”

“Truly remarkable.” McCoy sighed, now feeling the tingling pride when Jean Luc praised his son for doing well. Then amusement as Brouillard let out a snort and soft squeal, tossing his head and tugging on the lead, relaying that he was quite done with the exercise for the day. Remy dug his heels in but was dragged across the ground anyway, laughing. As soon as he gave the hose some slack, Brouillard stopped pulling and pranced up to him, swishing his tail and arching his neck before lowering his head and gently butting Remy. The boy giggled and hugged the colt’s head, stroking his neck and giving him a little treat that he had hidden in his pocket.

“Alright… Put ‘im up an’ see ‘im fed.” Jean Luc instructed, giving Remy a little pat on the bottom to send him on his way. Then the man turned and headed for Xavier, who was still smiling. “Well?”

“I must confess myself embarrassed.” Xavier said, giving him a sheepish look. “I did not even get a peek at his shields, I was so delightedly distracted by the… wonder of his emotions.”

“How y’ mean?” Jean Luc asked, sitting with him. 

“The moment I reached out to him, I could feel them. He was quite unguarded.”

“And?” Jean Luc asked, the shadow of a smile touching his lips. 

“I could feel his joy.” Xavier said, and Jean Luc’s smile came to the forefront. “His love for you.”

“Oui…” The Rom Baro nodded. “Treasure dese moments, me…”

“As you should.” McCoy chuckled.

“Tante Mattie told me a while back,” Jean Luc sighed, sitting back and looking up at the sky, “to savor it… pointed out… how many men can actually feel how happy his child be? She be right… so I do.”

“She is a wise woman…” McCoy nodded, and Xavier smiled in his agreement.

A few minutes later, and Remy came scampering over, taking a flying leap onto his papa’s back.

“Whoof!” Jean Luc grunted, nearly falling on his face. He looked back at his son over his shoulder. “Y’ all done, mon fils?”

“Oui, papa! Brouillard eatin’!” Remy grinned.

“Alright den… Y’ gon’ spend de rest o’ de mornin’ wit’ de professor here, d’accord?”

“Oui, papa.” Remy nodded, sliding to the ground as his papa stood.

“Mind yo’ manners.”

“Oui, papa.” Remy nodded, and then Jean Luc ruffled Remy’s hair, nodded to Xavier, and went off to tend to business of his own. Remy turned and looked at the man’ eyeing him warily… Xavier could see that this was not a boy who trusted easily…

“So… what we gon’ do?” He asked, moving to sit on the log that his papa had been sitting upon.

“Well, my boy,” Xavier said, standing, and blinking, Remy followed his example. “I believe we are going to head out of camp, to keep the psychic interference at a minimum.” Remy blinked, now looking very wary. Xavier chuckled. “So that your empathy won’t affect others, and they won’t affect you. The same to be said for my telepathy. The less minds around, the less distractions and the less the chances are for any unintentional interference and accidents.”

“… Alright den…” Remy nodded. 

“Would you feel better if someone else came with us?” Xavier asked.

“Non! Remy ain’t afraid!” The boy cried out, now indignant. Chuckling, McCoy took his leave and shuffled away, only to be swarmed by the gypsy children, much to his delight. 

Remy was staring up at Xavier with a fierce little look on his face, and then spun and marched off into the woods. Smiling at the fiery gypsy child, the man followed. They ended up perched on some boulders by the river, facing each other.

“So… what we gon’ do?” Remy asked again.

“First,” Xavier said, crossing his legs to mimic Remy, “I want you to tell me about what YOU think about your powers. And what YOU have noticed with them over the last year. How they have grown and developed. What YOU have done to work on them.”

Remy thought a moment, then nodded and launched into it. For nearly an hour he spoke, with Xavier listening attentively, nodding or making a sound of understanding or approval from time to time, and occasionally interrupting to ask a question or request an explanation or elaboration. Remy soon relaxed… it wasn’t often that a child his age had the undivided attention of an adult for so long, especially in a traveling gypsy troupe, and Xavier was such a wonderful listener, Remy found himself delving deep into things about his abilities that he had never told anyone about, and then, with Xavier’s encouragement, was able to ask questions that no one else could answer. The pair eventually evolved from a monologue from Remy to a deep, mutual conversation and sharing of information. Xavier found the child to be a fascinating source of information, and Remy found Xavier to be the same, with a gentle patience that easily tolerated all of Remy’s questions, even when they seemed to be completely off topic in relation to what they had been discussing.

It was nearly lunch time when they finally wound down, and finally found themselves sitting in silence, no more words left to say.

“Well now…” Xavier said with a smile. “I can see your head spinning from here.” And he chuckled when Remy scrunched up his nose a bit. “I think perhaps we need to take some time to quiet our minds and absorb what we have learned from each other before we return for lunch, don’t you think?”

“If y’ say so…” Remy said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Very well then. Let us close our eyes and relax our bodies. The mind shall follow. I want you to focus on the feel of the sun and wind on your face, the sound of the water beside you, and feel the breath in your lungs. Sit up straight for the deepest breath, but relax. Start with your toes. Wiggle them a bit and then let them relax completely.” He smiled as he saw the slight movement in the soft leather at the toe of Remy’s boots. “Let your feet follow…” He continued, and slowly guided Remy into relaxing his muscles, group by group, all the way up his body, until he had guided him into a meditative trance.

“Now Remy… remain relaxed. Your mind is quiet and calm?”

“… oui, monsieur.” Remy mumbled. 

“Alright. Now, remain relaxed and do not fear. I am going to reach in, and guide you into lowering your shields to relax your mind. I have guarded mine, so as not to cause you any discomfort. May I proceed?”

“… oui, monsieur.” Remy mumbled back, a slight trepidation in his tone. Xavier smiled, and gently reached out with his mind. Remy sucked in a breath when he felt the gentle pressure on his mind, almost like hands gently stroking his scalp, as Xavier’s psyche felt Remy’s shields.

“Wonderfully constructed…” The man murmured. “Now… bring them down.”

Remy nodded slightly, held his breath for a moment, and then let it out, his shields gently crumbling down. Xavier eased them down a bit further, controlling their fall into an organized heap that would be quick and easy to draw back up again.

“… dat felt diff’rent… bette’…” Remy observed in mild surprise.

“Did you feel how I guided the drop?”

“Oui.”

“Good. I want you to learn to do the same. I want you to practice at least twice a week when you can get away to a quiet place like this… away from the others. Speaking of which… what do you feel, now that you are open?”

“… Feel you, monsieur… calm. Curious.”

“I am indeed.” Xavier nodded with a smile.

“… Y’ be pleased.”

“I am. Your touch is careful, and respectful. Well done.”

“Y’ feel Remy?”

“I do. You are calm, and curious, but still slightly guarded and wary… a bit nervous, having your shields so open.”

“… Oui.”

“Nothing wrong with that, caution is a good thing to have with one’s shields open. Now… reach out and feel around you… can you feel anything?”

“… mmh…” Remy grunted, and his brow furrowed a bit. “… yeah… feel it small… and faded an’… fuzzy…”

“Oh?” Xavier asked, looking fascinated. “What is it?”

“… A hunger.” Remy admitted, and then gasped slightly in surprise when his belly growled in response to the hunger he was picking up on. “An’ thirst…”

Xavier blinked, and then movement caught his eyes, and his own widened. “… And?”

“… feel… pleased. Satisfied… De thirst be gone… de hunger ain’t so bad…”

“Remy… open your eyes and slowly turn around…” Xavier commanded. Remy did so, and when he turned his eyes widened, and Xavier felt the boy’s surprise wash over him; a red fox was drinking from the river.

“… an animal?” Remy breathed. “Dat why it felt so…” 

“Diluted?”

“Oui. Dat be a good word fo’ it.” Remy nodded, watching the fox turn and stare at them, before flicking an ear and trotting back into the trees.

“Perhaps.” Xavier nodded. “Animals wouldn’t have the full range and strength of human emotions, I think. They are more driven by instinct, than by feelings…”

“Was simple.” Remy observed, cocking his head. “Like… one flow into de other, an’ not swirlin’ ‘round bright an’ loud, like people…”

“Fascinating.” Xavier commented, regarding Remy and his words with great interest.

“… Guess so…?” Remy mumbled and shrugged, before his stomach growled again, followed by Xavier’s. Remy’s eyes widened and his face turned red, and Xavier jumped when Remy snapped his shields back up again… And then he laughed; his stomach had stopped growling.

“I believe, my young friend, that it is lunch time.”

And with a sheepish smile, Remy followed the man back to camp.


End file.
